Pro Bono
by Kainos Ktisis
Summary: Cloud’s a lawyer focused solely on furthering his career. Tifa’s a single mother desperate to keep custody of her son. When Cloud is assigned to work Tifa’s case pro bono, things get complicated when he finds himself falling for his client. AU Cloti
1. The Case

_A/N_: New story, yay!! Heheh...Yeah, I decided that I needed a change of style from my other stuff. Plus the idea just popped in my head and it wouldn't stop until I started writing it. :)

This is a first time for me, writing Cloud in 1st person, so I hope it comes off well. Also, this is more of the jaded, sarcastic Cloud that we see at the beginning of the game. Btw, I know next to nothing about law. I'm doing research as I write so that I'm not completely off base, but don't expect this to be super accurate. In any case, drop a review and let me know what you think. Thanks!

Disclaimer: Oops. Forgot to put this in the first time around. Anyhow, all characters, objects, places, etc that have some relation to Final Fantasy VII is property of Square Enix. Just because I'm writing a law fic doesn't mean you should try and see what happens if you sue me. I'd cry.

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**PRO BONO**

"_Pro bono publico" _– _For the public good_

** Chapter One**

My head snaps up when the thick manila folder slaps soundly against my desk.

"So…I have a job for you." Dark blue eyes sparkle menacingly and I know I'm in trouble. It always means trouble when Zack smirks like that. And when it comes to Zack Fair, trouble means _trouble_.

Warily, my eyebrows lift slightly as I stop scribbling notes on the current case I'm working on to articulate slowly, "What kind of job?"

"Excellent question, my good man!" I really don't like it when Zack gets that look on his face, which unfortunately, is too often for my mental sanity. "You're short on pro bono hours."

"…Yes…"

"Well, I have a case for you to make up the quota. Mother fighting for child custody so it should be relatively easy compared to—" he glanced at the papers on my desk and I didn't miss it when he tried to hold back a laugh "—defending Yuffie Kisaragi for shoplifting. Again."

I resist the urge to rub my temples in aggravation. It's not that I don't like doing charity work; it's just that it's so…so….so _time consuming_ and pointless. I'm a lawyer because I thought it would rake in a good income for me (oh and the whole defending the common good thing is pretty cool too), not because I wanted to solve social injustice—after all, if there _wasn't_ social injustice, I'd be out of a job, not that I would ever say _that_ out loud. I have a set of very finely tuned self-preservation instincts, thank you very much.

And one of those instincts includes being extra cautious whenever Zack is so eager for me to take a case. He may be my boss, but I'll be damned if I let him sucker me into something stupid.

"Zack, the year has barely begun. I have plenty of time to make up my quota."

"True, but why put off something for tomorrow if you can do it today?" I shoot him a deadpan look in return and he finally concedes. "Alright, alright. It's a friend of Aeris."

Ah. That explains everything. She's got him so whipped I wonder if there's anything he _wouldn't_ do for her. It takes much effort to school the smirk out of my expression.

"I would do it myself, but I've got my hands full with all my other cases that I don't have the time. You're the best guy I've got after, well, me and you know I absolutely _cannot_ let just anyone do it since it's _Aeris'_ friend and all. So, Cloud, buddy, nicest guy in the whole wide world, whaddya say?"

I eye the innocent flair he's injected into his expression warily and I know it's bad for my health, but I give in anyway. Damn the guilty part of my conscience that keeps reminding me that without Zack, I'd be out on the streets still. With a sigh, I snatch up the folder from my desk. "Fine! I'll take it. After this case is over, remind me why I work for you. Or why I'm friends with you at all, for that matter."

The last part rolls off of him like water and I realize all he probably heard with his selective hearing is the part where I agree.

"Great! Thanks Cloud. You won't regret it. Tifa's a great gal. Now, I have an appointment for lunch with a client, so I'll be off now," Zack spewed off quickly as he made a rapid retreat.

More than suspicious by now, I flip open the folder and scowl immediately.

"Damn it Zack! Get back here! What kind of case did you give me?!"

Of course, by then, Zack was long gone and I was stuck. No, not just stuck. My whole career might as well end now. So much for Zack's "easy" case. Too bad he forgot to mention that the woman's ex-husband and the person she was fighting for custody of her son over just so happened to be Rufus Shinra. As in THE Rufus Shinra—the same one who is president of the world's largest energy company and donates a large—_large_—sum of money to our very own law firm annually. And yes, the very same one that could shoot my career to hell if I ever work a case against him.

Memo to self: I hate Zack.

I flip through the files, most of it simple background information. The mother and, now, my client, is named Tifa Lockhart, twenty-seven years old, born in Nibelheim but moved to Midgar in middle school, graduated with high honors in high school, but never got a college degree. No criminal record, not even a parking ticket, and medical records are clean of drug and alcohol abuse. That's good. Then I see her occupation.

"You have got to be freaking kidding me."

Bartender. She's a freaking bartender. She's a freaking bartender whose ex-husband is a multi-millionaire and owns half the world. She had better be some _good_ friend of Aeris, or else I'm going to kill Zack. A thousand times over. Actually, I might just kill him anyway.

With a sigh, I pull out my cellular phone and dial a familiar number. I wait the customary four rings before inputting the "3#" option. Another pause and then I press "4#" finally "2#" before it finally gets me through to who I'm looking for. I'll never understand why Vincent bothers to go through the trouble of coding his messages so that only people who know what they're looking for will get their calls to go through to him. But, strange as he is, he's also my best informant.

His voice is deep…and creepy, in my humble opinion. _"Valentine speaking."_

"Vincent, it's Cloud. I need a favor."

"_Yes?"_

"Can you look up anything you can get on a Tifa Lockhart? That's H-A-R-T, no E. And just for good measure, try to get some dirt on Rufus Shinra. Payment as usual. Thanks."

I hang up. Talking on the phone with Vincent is always a little disconcerting. The man is quiet as a shadow in person; on the phone, it's like he doesn't exist. I guess that's why he's so good at what he does though. Who knows how many cases he's helped me win, simply on the merit of his being able to get information no one else can. Sometimes I wonder if he does it legally, but most times I try not to think about it. The important thing is that he gets me what I need. Anything outside of that, I couldn't care less.

I make another call, this time using the office telephone. Time to make contact with my new client.

"_Hello?"_

"Is this Miss Lockhart?"

"_Yes. How can I help you?"_

"Well, Miss Lockhart, the question should be how can _I_ help _you_. My name is Cloud Strife and I'm your lawyer."


	2. The Client

A/N: Wow. Just...wow! I am utterly floored at the response for this story thus far. Thank you so very much for all the feedback! I'm glad people are liking this rendition of Cloud. He's a lot of fun to write when he's being such a smartass.

...So much for updating _after_ my finals. This is what happens when my brain gets so fried I can't think anymore about how a country's style of political regime might affect the average citizen's health. And yes, I have a paper to write on that. Due tomorrow (technically today now). And it's gonna be a long night. A really really long one. But this chapter is done so I figure I might as well get it out now. Not everybody needs to suffer with me. And no, I'm not always this bitter, but when I have three finals in two days, it makes for a bitter me.

Anyhow, leave a review if you're so inclined. Thanks a million!

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**PRO BONO**

**Chapter Two**

When I hang up with my new client, there's a treacherous little voice in my head that's wondering what would happen if I were to throw this case on purpose. The woman sounds friendly enough and it's obvious from our conversation that she's intelligent, nothing like the airheaded gold-digger I'd initially taken her for when I'd read her profile. But still, this is my career at stake here. Is it really worth getting on Rufus' bad side for her?

Though, of course it's not like I can just lose the case and think I'll earn good favor because this is Rufus Shinra we're up talking about and he's probably got an army of the best lawyers in the continent slaving away for him. I'd have to actually slip a hint to him that I plan to lose it in order for Rufus to even notice. But then actually making contact with him beforehand would be dangerous on so many levels…

I shake the thought out of my head. What am I thinking? I may not be the most moral guy in the world, but I have my standards. I won't go so low as to throw a case on purpose, tempting as it may be. It wouldn't bode well for my career either if anybody ever got their hands on this kind of information, which I know from my experience with Vincent that skeletons are easy to find, even if they're locked away in a dungeon.

The sound of my office door slamming open and smacking the opposite wall with a force strong enough to dent calls my attention.

"Strife! What the hell is this I hear about you wanting me to settle for three months of community service in exchange for my admitting to shoplifting?"

Just what I needed right now. I take a deep, deep breath. It wouldn't do to blow up on my clients, even those as annoying as Yuffie. And especially not when they're returning clients and _definitely_ not when she happens to be the sole heir to the Kisaragi fortune. I can deal with annoying if it brings in the paycheck.

Still, it doesn't mean I _like_ dealing with her.

At eighteen, Yuffie's already got a horrid streak of stealing things. Sometimes I really wonder if they're absolutely positive that she doesn't have kleptomania. Her father, Godo Kisaragi, is an avid collector and dealer of antique goods with a specialization in traditional ninja weaponry, and their family line is rich enough to nearly rival Shinra's enterprise. Maybe it's because of Godo's fascination with the traditional arts that had Yuffie growing up believing that she's really a ninja. Don't get me wrong, the girl is actually legitimately dangerous: she has a black belt in ninjutsu and is working on one for karate as well. Unfortunately, other than her inordinate fascination with martial arts, she somehow got the strange notion that since ninjas are supposed to be stealthy, they should also naturally be great thieves.

She tried out her theory for the first time when she was fifteen. That was also the first time Godo hired me to defend her.

Ever since, I've had to represent her for multiple counts of pick pocketing, shoplifting, and even one breaking and entering charge. Up until now, we've been lucky to have been able to either convince the juries that the accusers had willingly "lent" their stolen items to Yuffie or Vincent had scraped enough dirt on them to merit settling out of court.

And no, it's not blackmail. At least I'd rather call it being reasonable.

Regardless, up until now, between Godo's wealth and my expertise, Yuffie has kept a relatively clean juvenile record, but there's only so much we can do. One of these days, she's going to steal from the wrong person, and then it's game over.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Yuffie, you do realize that if you don't admit to it and accept these conditions, you'll be tried as an adult and, if we lose, you'll get one _year_ in _prison_."

"Pfft! But you never lose in court."

I think that was a roundabout compliment, but not really one I want to take right now. "There's a first time for everything. And think about _who_ you stole from this time."

"Who? The mannequins? The scarf looks better on me anyway."

"No! The people who own the store that owns the mannequin you stole from!" She looks at me blankly and I really do try to resist the eye roll, but I can't stop it completely. "Jenova & Sons ring a bell?"

She thinks for a moment but then shakes her head. I don't bother trying to explain. Too many cases against powerful people lately, but Godo is an old client so I'll help him no matter what, but I really do hate going against Jenova & Sons.

"Yuffie, just think about it. Three months of community service is a _lot_ better than a year of prison. Plus, if you do the community service, it'll stay off your record."

"But why should I have to do anything in the first place when there's a chance I won't have to do either?"

"Because you just said it! There's only a chance, and it's not a very good one. Security cameras got a good picture of you and several of the store clerks saw you stuff it in your purse. The people at Jenova are too professional and ruthless to just let this go, even—or maybe especially since—if you're Godo's daughter!"

For the first time, Yuffie looks almost repentant. I think the world must be ending because I'd always thought that would be the only way Yuffie would see reason as a normal person does. But then she opens her mouth and I lose all hope of a quick end. "Can't we say I have a twin?"

I palm my face. "I have other things to do right now. I'll set up a meeting with your father to talk this through later."

"My old man?! What for?"

She goes off on a sudden rant, the same one she goes on every time someone mentions her father, but I tune her out. I've heard it so many times I've probably got it down to the exact placement of every single "oh my gawd!" and "pshaw!"

My secretary buzzes, cutting Yuffie off momentarily before she picks up where she left off. I think she's at the part where Godo has sold out their family line by being a merchant rather than a samurai. I ignore her and press the button to answer.

"What is it Jessie?"

"There's a Miss Lockhart waiting to see you."

I frown. I don't like actually meeting my clients before Vincent has gotten me a preliminary file on them, but I guess I don't really have a choice this time. I wonder briefly how she managed to get to my office so soon after I first called her.

"Send her in."

"Alright."

Turning to Yuffie, I shoot her one of my sharp glares and it manages to stop her talking for at least a couple of seconds in which I quickly command, "Get out."

"Aww, what?! Just cause you have a girl coming in, you're kicking me out?"

"A client."

"Pshaw! That's what they all say until they start sleeping with their 'clients'."

"Yuffie!" I do not like the direction this conversation is going; never mind what Yuffie is hinting about my love life—or lack thereof, really—but this would be really really really bad for a client, especially a _female _one, mind you, to hear. "Shut up and get out or I'll tell Godo to lock away your ninja stars."

Her eyes narrow dangerously at me and I know I've got her where I want her. "You wouldn't dare."

"Make that your shurikens too."

"Cloud…"

"And your smoke bombs…"

"Alright, alright! Geez, you're such a jerk. Blackmail…even I wouldn't go so low. And you say you're a defender of justice."

I lift an eyebrow at her. Yuffie has always been so melodramatic. She's still grumbling about something when she pulls open the door, but then she stops because there's a woman standing on the other side and right now she's blushing a pretty color, probably embarrassed that she overheard our conversation. I can only assume that this is Tifa Lockhart and suddenly taking her case doesn't seem so bad. Whoa, I did _not_ just think that. Client, Cloud, _client_.

With a glint in her eyes that scares me, Yuffie sidles up to her and whispers—Yuffie's whispers have the volume of a normal person's speaking voice—conspiratorially, "You better watch out. He plays dirty."

Dark cabernet eyes widen considerably and Yuffie snickers as she bounds away. I'm sure the double entendre doesn't escape her. Great. What a way to make a first impression on a new client. My only consolation is that this one is pro bono. She probably wouldn't have the money to come back for a second time anyway.

With a shake of my head, I stand and gesture to the chair across my desk. "Please, have a seat."

She hesitates before coming forward. I reach out to shake her hand, but she pauses for a couple of seconds before she finally takes it. Memo to self: in addition to maiming Zack, remember to follow through on those threats to Yuffie's ninja stars.

"Nice to meet you in person, Miss Lockhart. I'm Cloud Strife."

She retracts her hand quickly, though I'll give her credit for making it look relatively natural and inconspicuous.

I chuckle awkwardly before I decide I should do some explaining. It's never good when your client doesn't trust you as a lawyer. "Sorry about earlier. Yuffie is a recurring client. I've known her for three years and she's like a little sister who doesn't know when she's taking a joke too far."

"I see," she replies, hesitance still lacing her voice, but at least she's warmed a little. I think.

"Anyway, how can I help you? Do you have more questions that I didn't answer over the phone?"

She tucks her lower lips under her teeth in a nervous gesture. "Um…I actually—I was wondering how payment would work. I really can't afford much right now."

My eyebrows shoot up and I can see her visibly flinch, probably scared that I'll send her out my door now that I know she can't pay. "Mr. Fair didn't tell you?"

Confusion lights up her face. "Mr. Fair? You mean Zack? My friend Aeris told me Zack heads a law firm and that they could help me with a discounted price."

"I see…" I'm so going to kill Zack. He made me take this case for free when I could have easily gotten at least _something_ from it, even if it wouldn't be much. I sigh when I see how nervous she still is. I could be a bastard and charge her anyway, but looking at her income…I hate this whole guilty conscience thing. I force a smile on my face. "Oh, well I'm taking on your case pro bono."

Hope lights up her eyes and I suddenly feel like I've never made a better decision. (Though it wasn't really a choice—if I tried to charge, both Zack and Aeris would probably have my head.) "You mean…?"

I nod, the smile on my face a little more genuine. "I'm doing it free of charge."

And then suddenly I forget everything about making more money or not because she's just launched herself across my desk to catch me in a fierce hug. "Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!"

I pat her back awkwardly. "It's not a problem."

"Hey Cloud—Whoa!"

She jumps off of me with a yelp and I look at Zack, who's just come back from his lunch, in a fluster. Then he smirks and I swear I could just strangle him. "I could always come back later if you two need some time to, uh, get acquainted."

I point one of my trademark glares at him, but it turns to surprise when she laughs, and I'm quite certain I've never heard anything more melodic in my life. Oh God, that was cheesy.

My eyes widen even more when she goes and pecks Zack on the cheek before hugging him familiarly….Wha—?

"Glad to see some things never change. It's good to see you again Zack."

He grins and, as he rubs his cheek against the top of her head gently, I see something soft pass through his eyes that I've never seen before—not even when he's with Aeris—and I can't help the way my jaw seems to drop open.

"Good to see you too, Teef."

They step apart and stand at a distance that is appropriate for friends of the opposite gender who aren't _friends_, but I can't seem to get over my shock. Zack notices first and he comes over to slap me on the back. "Stop drooling, Spikes. I know she's hot, but you don't have to stare." Sometimes I wonder if the world's out to get me. First Yuffie and now Zack. She'll definitely think I'm some sort of sick pervert now. Not a good way to build a trusting relationship between lawyer and client. "I forgot to mention that Tifa here is a good friend of mine too. We go way back."

I search his face, trying to see if he means a _good_ friend from way back, but his eyes are guarded now behind a familiar playful sparkle. No more special tenderness. Just Zack. There's definitely history here, but it's not my place to ask, so I just nod my acknowledgement.

With Zack, this Tifa Lockhart character is like a completely different person. Gone is the shy hesitance and in its place is a quiet confidence and in her eyes I see a wealth of content joyfulness that I can't help but think wells up from the very depths of her soul. She's calm and collected and holds herself with pride—not arrogance, but elegant poise—and I forget for a moment that she's a bartender. She could easily pass for some member of the upper echelon, minus any pretense of superiority.

I wonder if it's because it's Zack she's talking to…or if she was really freaked out by what Yuffie said about me and this is who she normally is. Or she's just shy about her financial situation. I'd like to think it's the latter.

"Hey, Cloud!"

I blink, having tuned out their conversation—I'm getting disturbingly good at that, but I'll blame that on Yuffie—and let out a confused "Huh?"

Zack smirks and even Tifa smiles at my reaction. "I was asking you if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight," Zack explains, graciously letting go of the opportunity to tease me. "Tifa and the little man are coming over too."

I look at the paperwork stacked on my desk and grimace. I would never willingly miss an opportunity for a home-cooked meal, especially if Zack is cooking—Aeris, for all her feminine appeal, cannot cook for her life while Zack is surprisingly adept in the kitchen—but work trumps all.

"If I can make it. I might show up later."

"Workaholic," he explains to Tifa with a melodramatic sigh. "I've tried to get him to go to the group therapy sessions, but he's still in denial."

Twinkling with amusement, her eyes catching mine for the briefest of moments. I don't know why, but there's something magnetic about them that makes me feel as if I could really get lost in those swirling pools of red and brown. I blink and snap out of it, but if I start spacing out every time she looks at me, I'm going to be in real trouble.

Control, Cloud. It's not as if you've never seen a beautiful woman before.

But when she smiles at me—really _smiles_—I find myself torn between hoping the case ends quickly so I can run away as quickly as I can from whatever pull she already has on me, and hoping the case drags on so that I can have more time to enjoy those smiles.

So much for professional.

* * *

My most profound thanks go out to: **anon**, mom calling, **Seelenspiel**, The Lone Wanderer, **The Only Strife**, vx-Luna-xv, **ObsessiveCompulsiveValkyrie**, elebelly, **demonegg**, pinkparis, **Fezzie**, JingYee, **Creative Spark**, Dynasty021, **nickJoffdaCHAIN**


	3. The Child

A/N: Whoa! What a response! Sorry for the late update, but I've been re-acclimating myself with living at home. My mom is definitely starting to feel her age so I've been trying to do my part in running errands and keeping the house together so that she doesn't have to worry about it after coming home from work. The next couple of weeks will actually probably be kinda busy too since my sister and brother are going to be visiting. I'll try to get another chapter out before then, but no promises. Anyhow, thank you all sooo much for your support, especially to all you law-savvy people who have offered to help me work through the making the legal aspects sound realistic. I think I'm going to try and work through it on my own for now, but if I'm really floundering, it's nice to know so many of you are willing and more than capable to lend a helping hand.

Lots of comment on Zack/Tifa's past and for that I only have one thing to say: blame **Fairheartstrife** and **Alialka** for writing such awesome Fack fics (**SPLINTERED DREAMS **and **ANYWHERE**, respectively) that I've become a closet Fack shipper. lol. No worries, this fic is Cloti through and through, but I couldn't resist throwing that little bit of Fack in there. As to what happened between them, well...you'll find out soon enough. Just not in this chapter. *wink*

Anyhow, that's enough of me rambling. That's not what you're all here for anyway. To the story.

* * *

**PRO BONO**

**Chapter Three **

By the time I pull up to the curb in front of Zack's apartment, it's a little after eight. Admittedly, I was a little reluctant to come at all with the heavy work load I still have to do, but the lure of good food could not be denied.

That and I figure this is a good, non-threatening environment to meet the son. I've heard horror stories of lawyers taking on custody cases only to make a horrid impression on the children and get fired as a result. I'm not exactly doing this for the money, so I guess I don't have to worry about that, but it's better for the Lockhart's case overall if the kid likes—or at least tolerates—her lawyer.

I wonder if this means I'm actually taking her case seriously now.

All my concerns about the son hating me disperses, however, when the sliding glass doors to Zack's balcony eases open—my stomach growls angrily at me when it catches the mouthwatering scent of grilled steak waft out from the apartment—and a little boy of about seven or eight sticks his head out. Even in the poor lighting, I can make out young, gray-blue eyes widen with awe and I know I made a good choice in riding my motorcycle Fenrir instead of driving today.

I give him a little salute and he comes out all the way onto the balcony, eyes still shining with something I think I recognize as hero-worship. I know I must look like something out of a superhero comic book right now, what with my souped-up motorcycle and my don't-mess-with-me-or-I'll-kick-your-ass dark clothes, and I know instinctively that this is what every little boy wants to grow up to be. It's not that I'm vain. It's just because I was that little boy once too.

"Is that yours, Mister?"

There's awe and curiosity and disbelief all mixed up in his voice and it elicits a good-natured chuckle from me. "Yes it is. You're Denzel right?" He nods. "I'm Cloud. I'm your mom's lawyer."

"Does that mean you're gonna make sure I get to stay with Mommy?"

"You bet." I didn't think it'd be possible, but the shine in his eyes grows a little brighter and I've officially got myself a fan. "Can you tell Zack to come let me in?"

"Uh huh," and with that he slips back into the apartment. Less than a minute later, he comes bounding down the stairs with his mom in tow. There's a faint sheen of red layering her cheeks and I wonder whether it's from getting pulled down the stairs by an overly excited seven year old or something else. I decide I'm not going to follow that line of thought for the sake of my sanity.

I nod my acknowledgement, absolutely resolute that I will be professional and detached about this. "Miss Lockhart."

"Please, Mr. Strife, it's just Tifa." Her lips turn up in a friendly greeting and I almost lose my composure, but I've had a lot of training in keeping my expression blank, so it doesn't throw me completely off balance.

It does manage to steal a small smile from me though, as I reply, "As long as I'm just Cloud. At least outside the courtroom." I nod my head toward Denzel. "That's a good kid you've got there."

"I know." The smile on her face turns maternal and filled with so much devotion that it almost hurts to see someone love their child so much. I know without a doubt that she's a good mother. It soothes the headache of having to fight Rufus a little.

I see Denzel's eyes staring past us and I know there's only one thing he's interested in right now so I drop to a crouch in front of him. "Do you wanna see?"

He looks up at Tifa and she gives him one of those looks that says that he's old enough to make this kind of decision by himself and his grin is blindingly wide. "Can I really?"

"Of course. Come on," I say with a nod of my head toward my bike. He follows my lead more than willingly and Tifa follows after with laughing eyes.

The next few minutes are spent answering various questions from an overexcited little boy and it's then that I promise myself to never underestimate kids ever again. You'd be amazed at the kinds of questions they could ask when they really think you're a superhero (e.g. "Do you have secret compartments for your swords? Because everyone knows that swords are way cooler than guns." or "Can you tell me where your underground secret base is?" or "Does your bike transform into a flying jet?")

I glance up at Tifa with utter amazement in my eyes. It's not that he's irritating; in fact, I can honestly, genuinely say that I like the little guy. It's just…he's just, he's so energetic! And he has so many questions that I never even thought to think of, which is slightly overwhelming.

_"Is this how he always is?"_ I ask with my eyes.

She shrugs and smiles. I take that as a "_You ain't seen nothing yet—wait until you see him on a sugar high."_

I wonder how I ever managed to think he's shy.

The balcony doors slide open again and this time it's a pretty brunette with deep green eyes that often shine with all sorts of mischief who steps out onto the balcony. "Cloud, stop corrupting the young. There are too many crazy motorists out on the road as it is. The good citizens of the world don't need you to add innocent little boys to your rank of hel—" she catches Tifa's reproachful gaze and finishes instead with "—roadsters."

I would have replied with something utterly witty if Denzel had not tugged at the bottom of my jacket and asked, "Did you get in trouble with Auntie Aeris? It's not good to get Auntie Aeris mad."

I think I've just been told off by a seven-year old. I want to laugh, but Denzel is looking at me with the most serious eyes ever while Tifa is failing in her endeavor to suppress her chuckles. Aeris just smirks. I knew there's a reason she and Zack are engaged. They both have that same damned smirk that usually means the rest of the world—though sometimes I wonder if it's just me—needs to take cover.

Mercifully, Aeris lets it go. For now anyway. Instead, she waves us inside. "Come on. Dinner's ready," she says before stepping back in.

"You all haven't eaten yet?" I ask in surprise.

Tifa shakes her head, the motion causing her long sepia tinted hair to roll on and off her shoulders like a sea of silk, and a teasing light touches her eyes. "Zack figured you'd be your workaholic self and wouldn't show up for a while so he didn't really start cooking until half an hour ago."

I frown. I'm not a workaholic. I just like getting my job done well.

Almost as if reading my mind, she continues, "He also said that if you weren't such a workaholic, you wouldn't be his right-hand man."

I scoff. "Yeah, cause then he'd actually have to do his own paperwork."

"Sounds like Zack, alright."

I again wonder at why they're so familiar with each other. I'm oh so very tempted to ask about their past relationship but it's too early to be prodding. Vincent still hasn't gotten back to me yet, which is a little strange considering he's usually able to get me a preliminary report within two or three hours and it's now been close to eight. And without his report, I almost feel at a disadvantage. I'm not used to not knowing everything—or at least everything that matters—about the person I'm talking to.

But apparently I don't need to prod because she comes clean herself, though I'm not sure how much to believe quite yet. "We've been friends for a long time. And no, never _friends. _Just friends."

I don't know what I should be feeling when she makes that comment because she reads my expression—which I thought I'd blanked quite successfully—all too well and with an acuity that's frightening. I read people; people don't read me. It's all part of the military training I once went through. Learn to be stoic. Reveal nothing. Feel nothing. Your face is a mask; your eyes are guarded, not a window to your soul. You are most effective when you know exactly what your enemy is thinking but they can't get the first grasp of your mind.

But _she_ reads me, and admittedly, that scares me.

And I know instinctively that, now more than ever, I have to keep my distance from her. It's not because she's beautiful or even because I'm scared of losing control, it's just…There's something about her—maybe it's the maturity buried in the depths of her eyes that seem to tell the world that she's been through more than anyone should ever have to go through in their lifetime, but she's still content—that makes me want to talk to her, to tell her things I don't want to remember….

So I need to keep my distance. I'll be friendly, but I will keep a guard up.

…

Dinner is a casual affair between four adults and one little boy and it's strangely comfortable, the ladies conversing animatedly about whatever it is women like talking about—I learned long ago that there's no keeping up with the rapid jumps in topics they manage to race through over the course of one meal—while Zack and I entertain Denzel with our talk of motorcycles and engines. It's relaxing and feels so much like a normal dinner amongst friends.

Aeris and Tifa are obviously good friends and Tifa also has some sort of history with Zack, so I wonder why I've never heard her mentioned until now. I decide this is as good a time as any to get a feel of their relationship.

"So how do you—" I gesture at Tifa "—know these two?"

The two women share a knowing look before bursting into laughter while Zack groans and wipes a hand over his face. "You just had to ask _that_ question," he grumbles.

I'm just confused now and I really don't like being confused.

After who knows how long of their irrepressible guffaws and snickers, Tifa manages to control the urge to laugh enough to wipe away the tears at her eyes and take in deep breaths. "Well, Aeris I've known for a very long time, over a decade now."

Apparently my surprise is very evident because Aeris cuts in to explain. "It was one of those sister school cultural exchange things. The top ranking upperclassmen from Tifa's school stayed at our school as students for two weeks. My dad volunteered our house as a host family and it was just my luck that Tifa here happened to be one of the girls assigned to my house."

Sister school huh? That means Tifa also went to a private school. That means she obviously came from a relatively wealthy family background. How did she end up at a bar? Even if she divorced Rufus, didn't she still have her family to go back to?

"And you two managed to become friends and keep in touch for this long based just on those two weeks? That's…rare."

Aeris laughs, "Oh no. We didn't even become friends until later. I was _so _insanely jealous of her at the time. I was a senior at the time and Tifa was a junior. This girl, who's absolutely gorgeous, stays in my home for two weeks, is an absolute angel—you don't know how much grief I got from my dad afterwards asking me why _I_ never learned to cook like Tifa—_and_ she's a bona fide genius too!"

Tifa shakes her head, cheeks a little flushed from the praise. "I swear, you exaggerate things so much. If anyone was going to be jealous of anyone, it would have been me and _not_ the other way around."

"Oh whatever. You wouldn't have gotten an offer for a full ride from Junon University if you weren't about one of the brightest things to walk on this planet."

Whoa. Now that surprises me. I know she managed top marks in school, but Junon University? That is _the_ premier liberal arts university in the world. Not even the Shinra-backed Midgar University has _anything_ on Junon U. But then, if she got a full ride, why didn't she ever get a degree?

Zack chuckles. "See, this is what's different about guys and girls. If guys were telling this same thing, we'd be ripping each other apart with embarassing stories, but here you girls are heaping praise on each other. Oh the mysteries of the female mind."

"Oh don't worry. We'll get to the embarrassing story part of it," replies Aeris easily, that glimmer of mischief in her eyes flaring brighter. Oh yes. There is a _very_ good reason Zack and Aeris are engaged. "Anyhow, we didn't really become friends until we saw each other at one of those fundraiser cocktail party things a couple of months later."

"That's it?" I ask.

Tifa picks up the story. "Well, seeing as we were the only two teenage girls in a ballroom full of cranky old men intent only on building their empires and heavily made-up women grasping for their youth, it seemed a good idea at the time to try to get the DJs to stop the classical music and get a party mix going. It didn't really work so well."

"They didn't play it?"

"Oh no, they played it. That was the problem. To this day, I've never seen my father so angry as he was that day," Aeris sighs in a wistful voice, as if reliving one of her glory-days moments. I can only imagine the headaches Professor Gast lived through to raise her.

"Needless to say, we became really good friends after that whole fiasco." Deep rosy eyes flicker over to Zack and he sinks a little lower into his chair. Tifa smirks. "As for Zack…Let's just say he makes a very attractive woman."

I choke on my water. "What?!"

It takes a while to pry out the whole story amidst Tifa and Aeris' unrepentant talking giggles and Zack's complete lack of the same, but eventually I get the gist of it.

Six years ago, for reasons they weren't all too keen on explaining, Tifa had somehow unwittingly ended up as an "employee"—code word for call girl—for Don Corneo, street thug and slum lord extraordinaire who was incidentally also infamous for his hand in propagating the prostitution business in the slums of Midgar. Zack, for the sake of one of his clients—and now it's proven beyond a doubt that the man is insane—had gone undercover to gather information…Only, no men were allowed in Corneo's opulent mansion in Wall Market so Zack had disguised himself. As a woman. (Why am I best friends with him again?)

They skimmed over a lot of things such as how exactly Tifa managed to get herself tangled up with the likes of Don Corneo or even how Zack knew to rescue her. I file away the holes in their stories for future reference as something to ask about. Butlong story short, Zack managed to get Tifa out of there safe and sound all the while getting the information he needed for his other case. Things should have ended there, but a few days later, the lawyer Tifa hires from Mako Law to fight her divorce case just so happens to be—surprise surprise—the very same, and I quote, "gorgeous brunette woman with a figure to die for."

Now, I usually am not a big fan of laughing out loud. It's not that I don't have a sense of humor; I just don't like announcing my amusement to the whole world in that manner. When I hear the story though, I just about died. My eyes tear up and I'm laughing so hard that my abs hurt.

Zack smacks me on the back of the head and threatens to take away all my bonuses for the quarter, but at this point, I really couldn't care less. I think my mental eyes have been scarred forever, but to get something like _this_ on him is priceless.

And it's as I'm driving home later that night that I realize it's a good thing I went to dinner after all. It's not everyday I hear stories about Zack in drag.

* * *

A/N: Yes, I know it's almost sacrilegious to the game for me to turn Cloud's drag experience into Zack's, but I really really wanted to use it and this was as good a time to implement it as any...lol

Major thanks go out to: **Alialka, **mom calling, **elebelly**, pinkparis, **Part of Youth**, BlueWings92, **Valentine'sNinja**, Creative Spark, **kitsune13**, Dynasty021, **vx-Luna-xv**, Retah, **ObsessiveCompulsiveValkyrie**, nickJoffdaCHAIN, **Chaotic Symphony**, Sheiky, **demonegg**, xWhiskersX, **The Lone Wanderer**, JingYee, **Seelenspiel, **Fairheartstrife, **GeoMill**

Thanks also to **i-should-be-studying-too** and **Anon. **I don't know if those are your real pen/user names, but thanks for reviewing anyhow!


	4. The Cops

A/N: I don't know how this happened, but I was typing and typing and typing and all of a sudden this popped out. Maybe I'm watching too many detective dramas for my own good. Anyhow, apparently my inner muse won't be satisfied until I make my conflicts bigger and badder so here's it is. Though this chapter is more of a set-up with more questions than answers. To be honest, I'm still debating whether or not to leave this chapter as is, or scrap it and try again. But for now, this is what it is.

Sorry for the long wait but the next chapter is finally out. This story is actually a real challenge for me to write because I tend to like writing in Tifa's perspective and it's extremely hard to limit myself to only Cloud's thoughts. The most difficult thing is figuring out how to keep the plot going along without the story getting stagnant. Also, I find I'm really only so funny. Hence, I'm changing the genre to drama/romance. Cloud's wry sense of humor is still gonna be there but you'll find that I'll favor character and plot development over humor.

Anyhow, thanks for the immense support thus far and I hope I don't disappoint!

EDIT (6/17/2011): I have made some small changes to this chapter. By small, I mean I changed one line. Seriously. But it does make a difference on continuity.

* * *

**PRO BONO**

**Chapter Four**

Utter bliss. That's all I know when I sink into the comfort of my bed. There's nothing like the heavenly feel of silk and pillows after an excruciatingly long day. And _man_, has it been a long day.

As with most bad days, it actually started out rather promisingly.

The sun was shining, birds chirping, and there was even still coffee left in the coffee machine by the time I got to the office—a rare occurrence indeed. I should have known that the rest of the day would be a lesson in hell.

It began with a call.

…

"_Mr. Strife, Yuffie Kisaragi is on the line. She's quite, um, _insistent _that you talk with her."_

_I groan. Leave it to Yuffie to ruin my perfectly peaceful morning. "Alright. Patch her through."_

_There's a click followed by an all too brief moment of blissful silence when suddenly Yuffie's voice shatters my eardrum. "Strife! You gotta help me!"_

_She's breathing heavily and I can make out the faint sound of sirens and angry shouting in the background. I almost don't ask because I really don't want to know, but I ask anyway and I wonder if that makes me a masochist. "What did you do _this _time?"_

"_Oh shit, these security guards can sure run." More rustling and heavy breathing and then there's the faint sound of a several thuds. She snickers. "Suckers. That's what you get for messing with the Great Ninja Yuffie!"_

_I pinch the bridge of my nose. This can't be happening. I _know_ that Yuffie did not just call me while running away from people she's stealing from. Because that kinda might implicate me as an accomplice. And no idiot client would be stupid enough to implicate their own _lawyer_ who's trying to bust them out of a prison sentence, to join them there._

___Then again, this _is _Yuffie we're talking about here. Damn._

"_Yuffie, I'm hanging up now."_

"_Nononono! You gotta help me get out of here."_

"_No. I help you get out of jail _when _you get caught. I'm more of a 'after the fact' kind of guy."_

"_Wait wait wait! I've got important, _secret_, information about Jenova & Sons! They're up to something I tell you! Just listen for a sec. So I overheard something when I was in the ventilation system—which, I wasn't even looking for their office at the time—and it made me curious so I snuck in."_

_I'm not listening to this. I'm not listening to this. Listening to this makes me an accomplice. Why the hell am I listening to this?_

"_Would you believe it? They've got secret compartments and everything in their walls! If that doesn't scream shady, I don't know what does." (I restrain myself from saying that they're there to keep people like _her _out.) "Anyway, I did some B 'n E and snooping around, and everything would have been all peachy but then I think I must have tripped some alarm because before I know it, all hell breaks loose and WHY WON'T THEY JUST STOP CHASING ME?"_

_Oh freaking hell. She did not just mess with Jenova & Sons again. "Damn it Yuffie! You're not really a ninja and there's no worldwide conspiracy going on here so will you just give it a rest?"_

_There's a long silence on the other side of the phone though I still hear the labored breathing and the shouts in the background. I think for a second that I might have been too harsh, but I'm really at my wit's end trying to deal with her. I know she's not a bad kid, but damn it, she's got to grow some sense._

"_Fine, hang up. See if I care. I hope your conscience swallows you and spits you back out like a fish bone when I get shot for this. You'll regret not listening to me one of these days."_

_And surprisingly, she _is _the one to hang up. I can't help but feel like this time she's gotten herself into some _real_ trouble. I just hope she doesn't drag me in as well._

…

I groan into my pillow when I recall that particular incident. Yuffie has an unnatural talent for making my life a living hell. (For that matter, it seems like everyone I know has that particular skill.) Still, I haven't heard from her the rest of the day so I guess that means she managed to get away…For now.

Then I remember Zack coming in with details on the Lockhart case and I think I should just pop a couple of sleeping pills and end it now.

…

"_Spikes! Just the man I wanted to see!"_

_I wonder what I did wrong in my previous life to surround me with all these annoyingly hyperactive people. "Why do you call me that when your hair is probably spikier than mine?"_

_He shrugs. "Any number of reasons really, but mostly just because you hate it."_

"_I hate you."_

"_Yeah yeah. Anyway, I just got word about who's gonna be lording over the Lockhart case."_

_That piques my interest. Playing to the judge's sympathy can sometimes go a long way in how you put together your case. "Who?"_

_He pauses, looks around the break room (damn, I need more coffee) dramatically before leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, "Sephiroth."_

_Oh _hell_. Of all the….I had to get Sephiroth? And yes, before you ask, nobody ever mentions his last name; I don't know if anyone even _knows_ his last name. All anybody really needs to know is that Sephiroth is probably one of the most ruthless judges in bar history. He lets you get away with NOTHING. But if nothing else, at least I have the comfort of knowing that he won't play favorites to Shinra. He'd much rather just hate equally._

"_Damn."_

_Zack straightens up again and shrugs nonchalantly. "Tough luck, but that's gonna sound like real good news when I tell you who Shinra lawyered up with."_

_Does the torture never end? I feel like I'm walking into a trap when I ask, "Who?"_

"_Scarlet McFierce."_

"_Great. Just great."_

_Scarlet McFierce, whose real name is McFearson, should really be called McBitch. Half of her wins are because she wears a suit with a neckline low enough to win the male juror population and the other half of her wins are from intimidating the witnesses into saying exactly what she wants them to._

_Zack is right about one thing. Having Sephiroth as judge for this case could be an extremely good thing. He won't let Scarlett get too out of hand. Then again, he's just as likely to join in the fun._

…

On the upside, Vincent finally faxed me a copy of his report. (Being the hypersensitive paranoid that he is, he'd strongly _encouraged_ me to get a private fax number that operated solely between the two of us. I really don't know why he doesn't just use a scanner and send me the info electronically. I constantly have to remind myself that he does in fact make my life easier.)

Unfortunately, his report told me little more than what I already know.

Born Tifa Melanie Lockhart, May 3, 1982, to Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Lockhart, Nibelheim's long-time mayor. Moved to a prestigious boarding school in Midgar for middle school and went on to get top honors at Shinra High, which, incidentally, was also where she met a certain Rufus Shinra, two years her senior. Even in high school, she was brilliant, probably could have gone the full phD route complete with summa cum laude and all that jazz if she really wanted to. But instead, she'd married Rufus almost straight out of high school (September 6, 2000) and had her first and only child, Denzel Mark Shinra (who later took on the Lockhart surname after the divorce) on August 21, 2002.

Filed for divorce three years later, which oddly enough, had been a quick and relatively painless ordeal with both sides being quite lenient about money, and more important to my case, custody. Shinra had given Lockhart sole physical custody of the child and even agreed to paying a good amount of child support. In fact, Shinra seemed fairly disinterested in the child whereas Lockhart had wanted nothing other than the child.

That's good news for me. If nothing else, at least this prior case proves that Shinra had no vested interest in the child previously so it makes no sense that suddenly he's fighting tooth and nail for this kid unless there's some other reason for it.

It reminds me of the note scribbled on the bottom of the last page of the fax.

_Strife,_

_I apologize but this is all I could get for now. It has been unexpectedly difficult finding background information on Lockhart. I suspect that there is a reason for it._

(I interpret that as meaning that someone has paid big money to keep her files away from the public eye. How did a simple custody case come to have so many strings attached?)

_I will have a follow-up report ready as soon as I am able. Good day._

_- Valentine_

Huh. Speaking of Valentine…my mind wanders back to Yuffie. I know this is going against all my good judgment, but I'd be lying if I said her snooping around hadn't gotten me curious. I wonder if Valentine would be willing to do a little overtime. He seems to enjoy poking into all that high security information anyway. I make a mental note to give him a call tomorrow.

But for now, all I really want to do is sleep, sleep and sleep.

And I'm _just_ about asleep when the shrill ring of my phone startles me completely awake. I glance at the clock to see the digital 2:13 a.m. blinking happily back at me. I sigh. No peace in the day and none at night either, I see.

"Hello?"

"Cloud, you need to get down to the police station right now." Any sign of drowsiness leaves me when I hear Zack's deathly serious voice. Zack rarely acts serious, but when he does, I pay attention.

"What? What's going on?"

"Somebody broke into Tifa's apartment."

"Are they okay?"

"Yeah. A little shaken up but they're fine."

"That's good. But why do you want _me_ to come down? It's not like I'm a close friend or anything."

"Just…just come down."

I want to say no and just go back to sleep, but I know there's something Zack's not telling me that I need to know. "Alright, I'll be there in twenty."

…

When I said twenty, I must have forgotten about the fact that there was no traffic on the roads at two in the morning because I'm through the double glass doors of the police station in downtown Edge in less than ten minutes. Zack is already waiting for me there and waves me over. His eyes are bloodshot and there's a shadow of stubbles lining his chin. It's been a long night for him too, I guess.

"Hey. Aeris is with Tifa and Denzel. They're waiting for you." He waves over a policeman, a young fellow in his early twenties with eyes still bright with the fantasy that he can make a difference in the world. "Officer Biggs, can you bring my friend here to where Miss Lockhart is waiting?"

"No problem." He turns to me. "Right this way sir."

I give Zack a look that tells him clearly that I want this explained completely the next time I see him and he just gives me a tired nod. Whatever is going on is not good if that's all Zack manages to do.

"So _you're_ the guy."

I pause a little. "Excuse me?"

He nods his head toward the back of the station where they're presumably holding Tifa and Denzel. "That Lockhart chick. You got yourself one hell of a catch."

"I'm her lawyer."

Officer Biggs snickers like he knows something I don't. Which, at this point, is probably true. "Of course you are." His response—or rather the tone with which he says it—sounds disturbingly similar to something Yuffie would say.

I ignore him the rest of the short way to the waiting room where they've kept Aeris, Tifa, and Denzel. Tifa and Denzel are settled in a short sofa, Denzel dozing with his head on Tifa's lap while her long slender fingers running absentmindedly through his messy hair. Her eyes are unfocused, or rather focused on something that's not the potted flower she's staring at, and her eyebrows are drawn together in a knitted frown.

Aeris is the first to notice me step through the door and she breaks out in a smile, not quite as radiant as I'm used to, but at least it's familiar, something that's become a bit of a rarity tonight. "You made it!"

One of my eyebrows raise at her relieved welcome. "Yeah…What's going on?"

"Strife, is it?" It's only then that I notice the grizzled middle aged man step out from the shadows. His voice is rough and I can already tell that the speaker is a no nonsense kind of guy.

"Yes."

"Detective Cid Highwind."

My eyes dart to Aeris and then Tifa, but neither reveals anything in their blank expressions. "What can I do for you, Detective?"

"Have a seat, Mr. Strife."

I do as he says and sit in one of the one-person sofa chairs. Highwind follows my lead as he sits and places a manila folder down on the coffee table between us. He's watching me closely as if I'm some criminal and I remember why I hate working with our good protectors of the peace: they make you feel guilty even when you're not.

Finally though, he clears his throat and begins talking. "At around 1:20 this morning, there was a break-in into Miss Tifa Lockhart's residence. Strange things is, whoever broke in didn't steal anything, didn't try to hurt anybody either. Just dropped a folder on the kitchen counter and left. Strange thing to do, innit?"

I look at him blankly for a while before I realize he's waiting for my response so I nod slightly.

"Not much of a talker, are ya?" I simply return him with a deadpan look. "Right. Well, if you take a look at the contents of the folder that was dropped off, you'll see why we called you in this late."

He nods toward the folder and after only a moment's hesitation I reach out to flip it open. I'm not really sure what to think when I see the very stalker-esque pictures of me, Tifa and Denzel outside of Zack's apartment two nights ago. It's disturbing, especially when one of the close-ups is zoomed in enough to see the flecks of green circling my pupils, and – freak, is that a pimple?

I think I feel violated.

"What the hell is all this?"

"I'm asking the questions here, Strife. What's your relationship with Miss Lockhart?"

I'm not the only way taken aback by the question as I see Tifa recoil at his bluntness. "I'm her lawyer," I reply dryly.

"Really? Cause the way you're hanging around her and the boy sure don't look like you're just her lawyer."

"Are you trying to imply something? Look, I know you're just doing what you have to. So here's my piece to make your life easier. I'm her lawyer; that's it. Those pictures were taken two nights ago when we had dinner at my boss, Zack's, apartment. I've never met Miss Lockhart before, and I sure as hell don't know why someone would break into her apartment just to drop off pictures of us."

Highwind narrows his eyes at me, but he eventually relents. "We're thinking it may be a warning. We'd like to place the three of you under protective custody."

I scoff. "What? Did the police department suddenly hit the jackpot? The last I remember, you guys had to cram your overnight cells to make room for the growing number of serious offenders. I know for a fact that Edge isn't doing well financially and I can only imagine what kind of pressure that's putting on law enforcement." I gesture at the photos. "Besides, a couple of photos—as weird and disturbing as they may be—aren't enough to warrant protective custody."

I could see Highwind bristling but I'm tired and cranky and really don't give a damn right now. Besides, he and I both know that I'm right.

The surprises are never-ending tonight, though, because Tifa places a calming hand on Cid's arm and he noticeably mellows. "It's alright, Cid. I know you mean well, but he's got a point."

His eyes soften when he looks at her. "Aw hell, I know. I just don't want you getting hurt. Shera'll have my ass if I let anything happen to you." Then he turns his gaze on me and it immediately hardens with a protective fire. "You better be one damn good lawyer and keep my nephew where he belongs."

"Nephew?"

"Cid's wife, Shera, is my second cousin."

"Wow. You just know everyone don't you?"

She shrugs a little sheepishly.

"Why don't you and Denzel stay with me 'n Shera for a while? Just until you get new locks, or better yet, move into a new place."

Aeris steps in. "Oh, they can stay at my place. I live closer to the Seventh Heaven and Denzel's school anyway."

Cid grunts his assent but doesn't let them leave until he gives one more piece. "Aeris' boy Zack is still outside, right?" Officer Biggs nods. "Good. Make sure he takes you three home safe and sound. And for God's sake, girl, be careful!"

Tifa replies with a breathless sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a grunt, the effort of lifting the sleeping Denzel into her arms a little more difficult now with his growing age and weight. "I will, Cid. I'll call you when I get there." She glances up shyly at me. "Sorry about all the trouble, Mr. Stri – er, Cloud."

"It's no problem. Be careful."

She smiles and steps out of the room after Aeris. I make to follow them but Cid stops me.

"There was something else in the folder."

"What?" I feel like that's been my new favorite word lately.

"A note. We're testing it for fingerprints but I doubt we'll get anything."

"What did it say?"

"Your son for our son."

I let the information sit in me for a while, suddenly understanding why Cid would be anxious to get his nephew and cousin into protective custody. I also realize that there's a reason he's only bringing it up now. "Why are you telling me?"

He shrugs, too forcibly nonchalant for it to come off as casual. "I don't trust you, boy. Never liked lawyers, but Tifa seems to trust you so I'll it slide for now. Some'em just ain't right though. I can't say what; just my gut, but it's never led me wrong before. Whatever it is, like it or not, your face was the one that showed up on those photos so you're in this just the same as the rest of us. Keep your eyes open."

I nod, not knowing if he's warning me or threatening me. Either way, he's right about one thing. Somehow I've got myself involved in something much bigger than a simple custody case.

* * *

A/N: I couldn't resist throwing Cid in as the detective role, but what can I say? He inserted himself in that role and refused to get out.

Most profound thanks to: **mom calling**, Alialka, **ObsessiveCompulsiveValkyrie**, shadowneko003, **Ksim3000**, Srta Caroline, **CloudRed1988**, LovelessGenesis, **nickJoffdaCHAIN**, HotFudge5000, **Vanilla Raindrops, **elebelly, **pinkparis**, Creative Spark, **GeoMill**, vx-Luna-xv, **iluvkingdomheartz**, Valentine'sNinja, **Sesshomaru Dogdemon, **A Morning Star

A lot of you commented on Zack's height and how strikingly _tall _of a woman he must have made...admittedly, I totally didn't think about it realistically...Honestly, I just wanted the chance to write Zack in drag...lol.


	5. The Characters

A/N: Bah....I am sooooo so so so so very sorry this update has been so delayed! Bad me! All I can say is that summer school was a total pain and that I was caught up in helping out with a bunch of welcome week events. I am so grateful to all you readers who have so patiently put up with me thus far. Thank you so much for all your kind words and I'll try to get this plot (and the fluff, because--just admit it--that's really what we're all here for. lol) going faster. Extra long chapter as an apology?

Btw, I've never played Crisis Core so there are some character names I will be using that I'm rather unfamiliar with their personalities. I've done some research and while none really show up (in person) in this chapter, they'll probably be playing minor parts in this fic. Sorry if I'm totally off with their character, but I just wanted to make this disclaimer.

Random strangeness: I accidently typed Barret's name as "Ballet." Lol….Yay typos...

* * *

**PRO BONO**

**Chapter Five**

The next day, I'm still utterly perplexed about the situation from last night, more specifically, the implications of the note in the folder. There's not much to go off of but at least I know that whoever did this didn't take the time to do much investigating. I'll assume that the "your son" in the note refers to Denzel, but if that's true, then Tifa must be the target. I'm inclined to think Rufus is getting desperate to get Denzel back, but as convenient for me as it would be if he were the culprit, nothing makes sense if really is him. If anything, pulling a stupid stunt like this would seriously look bad if it ever got traced back to him.

Then again, it could be someone after Rufus and attempting to use Denzel as leverage, but I don't think that makes sense either. I mean, who'd be stupid enough to try to blackmail a guy by breaking into his ex-wife's apartment and dropping off pictures of his kid and said ex-wife looking (admittedly) happy with another man? (Somehow that didn't come out exactly the way I meant it to…)

It bothers me that no matter how I trace it, logic keeps leading me back to the fact that it's Tifa they're after. I'm not sure how I feel about being dragged into something involving threatening notes insinuating kidnap because of a client.

I think back on how her files are locked away from public eye—and even under tighter locks than that if even Vincent's having trouble—and I come to one of three conclusions. Tifa has something to hide. Somebody thinks Tifa has something to hide. Or, somebody is hiding Tifa.

None of those prospect is appealing to me as pleasant right now.

I realize that, at this point, the only real option I have is to investigate what it is about this Tifa Lockhart that people would leave her threats. With a sudden flash of clarity, I also realize that Zack would probably know a lot about her history.

Oh feel my joy at what I know is going to be a stupendously awkward conversation…

My head—and attention—jerks up when the unmistakable voice of a little boy drifts through the thin walls to my office. If I'm not mistaken, that sounds an awful lot like Lockhart's kid. What the…? And then I hear Zack's voice and even though nothing makes sense still, at least it's all explained. Zack's presence is enough to explain away any situation.

So when the knock comes at my office door, I'm really not all that surprised. With a frustrated sigh, I let my head drop onto my desk with an audible thud. I just know that Zack is going to get me to do something I'm going to regret.

"Come in," I call out as I lift my head off the hard wood of my desk.

The door bursts open not a half second later and there Zack in all his superhero glory—complete with a towel-cape and ski mask to complete his "disguise." Denzel is close on his heels, but at least his age makes the whole towel and cardboard sword thing a little less ridiculous.

"Pencil-Pusher Man! You must leave your papers of doom and save the world with us!" calls out Zack in a deep, fairly impressive superhero voice. Oh bloody hell. Is this really the guy I call my boss and best friend?

I shouldn't ask. I know I really shouldn't. In fact, I should just put my head back down, and when I _really _wake up, everything will be back to normal. It's with a scowl that I realize that when it comes to Zack, this _is_ normal.

So, despite my misgivings, I find myself asking what he's doing.

"Why, saving the world from boring office jobs, one poor sod at a time." He says it as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

I refrain from telling him that if he wanted to save _this_ poor sod, he should do his own paperwork and not shove it off to me. Sometimes I wonder what his secretary does if she's not doing the paperwork. For that matter, what the hell does _my_ secretary do? I make a mental note to check on Jessie later.

Bringing my focus back to the situation at hand, I completely dismiss Zack's attempt at hero-hood. "What's Denzel doing here?"

"Ah…right." Zack has the decency to look embarrassed and that is more nerve-wracking than anything. "Tifa called a little while ago and said that she just got a part-time instructing job at the martial arts school. Because of the short notice, she didn't have a babysitter lined up and they haven't registered Denzel in a school yet, so she asked if we could look after him for a while. At least until she's back at the bar."

The fact that Tifa trusted Zack with Denzel when her home had been broken into and the safety of her and the one she cared for the most severely threatened only last night spoke volumes about how much she trusted him. Another interesting fact to tuck away. I'll pretend that the sudden tightness in my chest was the chili cheese dog I had for lunch.

Then a more important little detail hit me. "_We?!"_

"Well yeah. It's not like I can look after the little guy on my own all day."

"So you thought I would help."

"Not thought. Know."

"…And you're so sure…why?"

He raises an eyebrow like it's the stupidest question he's ever heard. "Well duh. Tifa's your client, not mine."

"Yeah, well she's _your_ _**friend**_, not mine."

If he notices the extra emphasis I put on "friend," Zack chooses to ignore it, and I also realize as soon as I say it that it was really quite low of me to do that. Annoyingness aside, I know Zack and I know he's deathly loyal to Aeris. I also know that whatever happened between him and Lockhart in the past (_if_ there is a past) will stay in the past.

Groaning, I give in as my conscience kicks me for being a jerk. I know I'm opening the floodgates for who knows what kind of trouble, but I finally grumble out, "What do you want?"

Zack's face splits open in a frighteningly wide grin. "Great! I knew I could count on you! I'm actually meeting Aeris for a lunch date in about—" he glances at his watch "—half an hour, so it'll be great if you look after Denzel until then. Oh and of course drop him off at the Seventh Heaven after work too."

I frown. I somehow feel like I've gotten the raw end of the deal. "Why do you still go on so many dates? She already said she'll marry you."

Zack sighs dramatically. "You really don't understand the way of women do you? You can't just marry them and then be done with it. You have to keep up with the dates, _especially _after marriage. It's a matter of romance, my friend. You don't change your ways just because you're married." I send him one of my patented deadpan looks and he gives in. "Well, that and she hasn't signed the papers yet to officially make her Mrs. Zack Fair."

Sometimes I think Zack is the perfect example of why men should never fall in love; they get so whipped it's not even funny. But then, I will admit that I'm the first to feel just slightly jealous that he's so happy with her, that he has a constant companion in Aeris, someone who loves him despite his faults and will stick with him through it all…

I sigh. I really have been around Zack too long.

Or maybe I've been watching too many chick-flicks. For whatever odd reason, those are the only ones that I can get a discount on for during the rare few times I want to fill my head with mindless crap.

Though there was that one action flick called _FLOOD _or _The Last Tale of Rebellion_ or something like that. The fight sequences were pretty good thought I can't say I particularly liked the ending. What kind of idiot would be _that_ oblivious to a childhood friend who's been in love with him since ever? What kind of idiot wouldn't also be madly in love with her? (That would be Zack's influence talking.)

At least they could have gone for some more realism.

Not only that, I had people bothering me for weeks asking if I was really _the _Phoenix Clash. Apparently my hair was chocobo-like enough to warrant the confusion…On the upside, business had skyrocketed for the couple of months that the film was out. Everybody wanted to say that Phoenix Clash was their lawyer. Go figure.

"Whatever Zack. Get out of here before I change my mind."

"Cloud, Cloud. I know you really love me somewhere beneath all those layers of gloom." Then he's out the door belting out some love song or another. I'd question his sanity but that just brings up the problem of mine. Or lack thereof.

Doesn't _anyone_ see the problem with leaving Denzel with me when there's someone obviously gunning for him who _knows_ I've been around him? Apparently not.

I turn my attention back to the kid. I nod at him and he nods back just as solemnly, and I'm a bit thrown because he's copied my expression down pat. I want to say that I'm a bad influence on him and that Zack should get someone else to look after the kid while his mom is working at the new martial arts place, but then I realize that the next person Zack would go to for something like this would be his mentor turned judge Angeal Hewley.

Don't get me wrong. Angeal is an amazing motivator; I should know since I was in his unit in the military for a while before I got transferred (there's _got_ to be something wrong with the military if we all came out as lawyers and judges), but I don't see him as someone who would particularly be good at taking care of someone younger than sixteen and _not_ in the military.

Denzel is still watching me with those big curious gray eyes of his. Great. Now what am I supposed to do? It's not like I can just sic papers at him and tell him to get to work. I vaguely recall that there seems to be some sort of child labor law protecting against that kind of thing.

Then again, Zack _was_ the one who started it…

The evil smirk in me is dying to get out but the stoic me manages to keep him under wraps for just a little longer.

"Say Denzel, how about we try saving the world from unorganized papers?"

His eyes light up, but I still can't find it in me to feel guilty about the fact that I'm about to con him into filing my papers for me. I'm evil, I know.

…

The day passes by rather quickly and I was pleasantly surprised to find that Denzel really is a good kid, even after he got bored of saving the world by filing papers alphabetically, stapling loose forms (hey, those things can be dangerous), and ensuring that the infamous Pencil-Pusher Man (how does Zack come up with these lame superhero names?) doesn't run out of coffee…

Most kids his age would probably be bouncing off the walls trying to find something to entertain themselves with (actually, that sounds an awful lot like Yuffie…), but Denzel had been content to sit quietly and watch me while I worked. I know for a fact that my job can be an utter drag at times, but he watches me as if it's the most entertaining thing in the world while asking me questions every now and then with what seems to be the most genuine interest. Lockhart either did a really good job raising this kid, or he needs to get some serious hobbies. Not like I'm really one to talk…

I turn my head to the side until the tension in my neck is relieved with a satisfying pop. I glance at the clock on my desk and see that it's nearly 5:30. Poor kid has been stuck here with me for six hours now. On an average day I don't card out of the office until after dinner, but I guess it won't hurt to take off a little earlier today.

I remember Aeris telling me that the Seventh Heaven where Tifa works as a bartender is kind of a bar and grill so it should already be open for business. "Ready to go see your mom?"

The huge grin that splits across his face tells me he is, so I quickly pack up my things.

Denzel is a little disappointed when he sees that I drove my sedan today instead of my motorcycle (which I'm thankful that I didn't—who knows how much trouble I'd get into if something happened), but he settles in the passenger seat and buckles his seatbelt without any trouble. I'm telling you: if I ever have a kid, I want him to be just like Denzel—well-trained, I mean.

The drive to the Seventh Heaven takes us about half an hour when it really should only take ten. Downtown Edge traffic. I despise it with a passion. Finding a parking space is even worse.

Ten circles around the block later, I thank all that is good in the world that a spot—even though it's small enough to seriously test my parallel parking skills—finally opens up a little ways down the street from the bar. I warn Denzel to be careful of incoming traffic before stepping out of the car myself. I look at the parking meter with unmasked disdain. From I remember, the meters here were excruciatingly expensive—one gil for a whole seven minutes. Damn.

I stick one coin in. It shouldn't take that long to drop off the kid and be off again. (Why do I suddenly feel like a nanny?)

Then again, it might be a good idea to stick around for a while and get a feel for the Lockhart woman in a working environment. Dinner would be nice too…My grumbling stomach seals the deal for me and I stick in enough one-gil coins for an hour.

"Let's go, Denzel."

He watches me curiously for a moment and I'm suddenly nervous because my utter lack of experience with kids has me wondering whether he's expecting me to take his hand to walk with him. And what would you know, the little guy tugs on my hand insistently and leads the way to the restaurant. "Come on, I wanna tell Mommy how many evil papers I stapled today!"

I cringe at that but before I can tell Denzel not to do tell his mother that I basically put him through child labor, he's already pushed us past the front door.

"Hi Wedge," he tosses over his shoulder as we pass by the rotund maître d' manning the podium at the foyer.

He waves back and says something in return but it's lost in the chatter of voices. Denzel pulls me straight to the center of the restaurant where the bar is set up as a large ring around a pillar. Although the Seventh Heaven is a bar and grill (a pretty popular one, too, judging by the number of full tables around), it seems the main attraction is still the bar with its impressive wall of drinks wrapping around the pillar in its entirety.

Tifa grins and waves when she notices us. Catching the attention of the other bartender—a tall lanky man with an easy smile, though for some reason he's looking at me right now like he really just wants to deck me—and gesturing for him to take over her section as well for a while, she gracefully slides out from behind the bar. She reaches down to muss up Denzel's hair before planting a kiss on his forehead. Straightening, she smiles at me sheepishly.

"Sorry. I should have known Zack would get you to look after Denzel instead."

My eyes glance down at Denzel and the small smile that touches my lips is genuine. "It's okay. I didn't really mind. Denzel is a good kid."

"I know." She gets this misty-eyed look to her that suddenly has me extremely nervous because I have enough trouble acting normal around this woman that I really don't need her to start crying on me. (I suddenly get a vision of her face burrowed against my shoulder and my arms tight around her comforting her and I can't help the tight feeling in my chest at the thought. Don't go there, buddy. Remember, client?) But she collects herself soon enough and that bright smile is on her face again before I know it. "Come on, I want you to meet Barret."

"Who's Barret?" If I don't acknowledge the stab of jealousy flush through me at the mention of another man, then it doesn't really exist.

…I'll keep telling myself that and maybe I'll get myself to believe it eventually.

"He owns the Seventh Heaven. He may look intimidating, but he's about as harmless as a bear in a marshmallow suit." She giggles a bit at that and I'm positive there's some inside joke about this.

"What about the bar?"

"It's fine. Johnny can take care of it for now."

"Johnny looks a little like he could use a drink himself."

Confused, she turns to see said man staring daggers at me. She frowns at him and makes a little cutting motion with her hands before he finally throws up his hands in acquiesce. Turning back to face me, she chuckles sheepishly. "Sorry. Johnny tends to overreact when he sees me with other guys, not that he really has a right to. It's just something I've learned to find amusing. Most of the time anyway," she finishes with a shrug. "Come with me."

Unexpectedly, after taking Denzel's hand in her own, she reaches out for mine. I don't know if it's just a maternal reflex from having a young child, but I can't deny that I'm a bit shaken from the contact. Surprising as it may be, I'm actually not very used to casual contact like this, especially from the fairer sex. (Okay, that just sounds sad. Let's be clear here. It's not that I can't get a date; I just haven't found the right girl yet…And yes, telling myself that _does_ make me feel better.)

I mean, sure I exchange friendly hugs with Aeris and I shake my female clients' hands, but Tifa isn't my best friend's fiancé, and this is _completely_ different from getting a handshake.

Fortunately, I have enough wits about me to not squeak in surprise as she all but drags us to the back and up a staircase. Fishing a set of keys out from the back pocket of her shorts (be proud of me, it's only then that I chance a glance at her…pocket…and maybe some of the surrounding areas too, but really, that's it!), she unlocks the door at the top of the stairs.

Denzel is the first to push through after Tifa opens the door as he enthusiastically calls out, "Uncle Barret! Marlene! I'm back!"

Tifa chuckles before stepping over the threshold herself. "Marlene is Barret's daughter. Denzel sort of grew up with her."

"You've known them long then?"

"I guess so. Close to four years now, I think."

"You've been in Edge for four years? Zack said that Denzel wasn't registered in a school yet."

"That's true. We'd just moved closer to work and it was too far for Denzel to continue going to the school he was originally enrolled in."

Oh. But... "I was under the impression that you hadn't seen Zack for nearly five years."

"That's true too."

"But you've been in Edge," I state again dumbly, though it comes out more as a confused question than anything.

"Yes," she replies smoothly, dark wine eyes challenging me to ask why.

Before I can decide how wise it would be to push her for answers now, loud thumping footsteps and a bellowing voice drowning out the laughter of two giggly children draw my attention away. My eyes widen visibly, but that's the only sign of surprise I give. Considering how well I've trained myself to _not_ show any inkling of what I feel, that's a pretty big deal.

Tifa goes over to pluck a young girl, maybe a year or two younger than Denzel, off of Barret's right bicep while she leaves Denzel to dangle off the big man's other arm. And _damn_, does he have big arms.

As a lawyer, I've seen my fair of strange clientele, but this Barret Wallace guy might just take the cake for the most eccentric character. By all accounts, the guy ought to be intimidating. He's a tall black man with arms as thick as my head and a perpetual nasty scowl on his face. Even worse, his right arm is amputated and rather than having a normal prosthetic limb like normal (sane) people, it looks like he's got a machine gun grafted in. (Is that even legal? I should check. Then again, it's none of my business. Unless he gets sued by the state. In which case he can hire me, and _then _I'll hit the books. Good plan, good plan.)

But, for all of that, I just can't take the guy seriously. There's just something about him that strikes me as oddly comedic. Well, that and Tifa already mentioned something about him in a marshmallow suit and that just negates every single fear factor he may have on his side.

Still holding the little girl—who's trying very hard to pretend that she's not staring at me—in her arms, Tifa laughs when she sees the scowl on Barret's face grow at the sight of me. "Barret, stop trying to scare my lawyer away."

His eyes narrow and I swear I can hear him growling. "I don' like the look o' him, Teef."

She catches my confused expression and rolls her eyes good-naturedly. I take it that this Barret guy is a tad overprotective. Just a tad. Really.

"Barret, please. Lawyer, remember?"

I take this as my cue and I flash him my most charming trust-me-damn-it smile. "Cloud Strife, sir. I take it that you're Mr. Barret Wallace. Miss Lockhart speaks very..." I glance at her and I know she sees the twinkle in my eye because she turns away with a little cough that sounds suspiciously like muffled laughter "...highly of you."

Surprisingly, the color in Barret's face darkens and he lifts his natural hand—now that Denzel finally let go—to scratch his head sheepishly. "I don' know what that girl said to you, but will ya cut it out wit' the Mr. and all? It's jes' Barret, Spiky."

Spiky? Where did that come from?

"Oh good. He's already christened you with a nickname. That means you're welcome in the bar and in Barret's home anytime," Tifa comments offhandedly.

"Oookay."

Apparently Tifa had also put the little girl—Marlene I take it—back on the ground because the next thing I know is her little hands tugging at my index finger. She motions for me to come closer so I crouch down next to her.

"Hi…" Have I ever mentioned how awkward I can be with kids sometimes?

She frowns a little bit, then tugs me even closer so that the side of my head is right close to her mouth. Again, awkward. But Tifa only smiles encouragingly when I glance at her for help so I resolve myself to endure whatever torture the little girl has in for me.

"Mister, your hair looks like a chocobo!" the little girl whispers in my ear.

At least, it was an attempt to whisper. Apparently Marlene was at that stage of development in which she still hadn't quite figured out that speaking close to one's ear did not equate with whispering. The next five minutes were spent trying to get the ringing in my head to go away while ignoring the snickers and muffled chuckles coming from Barret and Tifa, respectively. Marlene joined in because laughing meant fun and she just wanted to have fun.

Denzel, to his credit, did not understand what was so funny when it was a real legitimate observation and he said as much.

Suffice to say that he and I were not in the least bit amused when the other three simply laughed harder in response.

Why do I feel like the strangest people in the world like to hang around me?

* * *

Major thanks to: **elebelly**, AkaneKaminga, **Fairheartstrife**, Srta Caroline, **Cloud Chocobo Strife**, mom calling, **vLuna**, CloudRed1988, **nickJoffdaCHAIN**, ObsessiveCompulsiveValkyrie, **Faith Angel**, pinkparis, **Valentine'sNinja, **Da Cute Snowbunny, **strifehart**, Vanilla Raindrops, **meitanteikid**, xEpIcxXxfAiLx, **flipped**, Doctor Kiba

Oh, and just as a disclaimer: the idea of the movie _FLOOD _and Phoenix Clash are courtesy of Horky's fanfic _Rita Boltspirit_. If you haven't read it, read it now. If you have read it, read it again just for good measure. lol. And while I'm on the topic of borrowing ideas, if you haven't read kitsune13's _Tales Within Tales_ (which is nearly sacrilegious if you're a Cloti fan to have not read it yet), go read it now! It's a spin-off of _Rita Boltspirit_ though kitsune13 has developed a whole other awesome universe. I will warn you that it's long though it's completely worth the time to read.


	6. The Competition

A/N: Sorry sorry. I know, I fail. A delayed update _and_ it's a tad on the short side. What was I thinking? Not to justify myself or anything (actually no, I am), but I've just been a very busy college senior. Again, my apologies. But, I really do thank you all for sticking with me and all the encouraging reviews!

Oh and as a disclaimer: the drink "the Mako Special" is borrowed from **Palo112**'s ffvii fanfic of the same name. Find your way over there if you haven't. It's not completed yet, but it's still a really good read.

* * *

**PRO BONO**

**Chapter Six **

Three days sees me conned into babysitting Denzel instead of Zack. At least he's not stuck filing papers for me anymore, since each day he brings his own toys to entertain himself with. In fact, he's gathering up quite the collection in the corner of my office that has now been turned into his own personal little playpen of sorts. It's kind of strange, but it's nice having him there.

If I didn't know better, I would almost say that I've been domesticated.

… … …Nah.

I can't say that the time spent looking after the little guy was a complete waste either. Every day at around five I would drive Denzel down to the Seventh Heaven and spend the next few hours there. (Not to mention dinner at a discount.)

It has been…nice. Tifa doesn't get to chat a lot; the bar is usually quite busy, especially her side of the bar I've noticed, but she always makes it a point to converse with me for a few minutes whenever she's given reprieve.

I know, so it's probably not the best idea to be so familiar with my clients outside of work, but I find that Tifa Lockhart is one of those people that it's impossible _not_ to be comfortable around.

But all pleasantries aside, it really is about time I start doing my job and tonight's as good a night as any to start. It's a Thursday night, so the crowd isn't as large as it could be and Tifa has some downtime. Seeing that all her other orders have already been filled for the time, I wave her over to talk.

"What can I get you?"

I shake my head. "I just wanted to see if you have time to talk a little."

She raises an eyebrow playfully. "You know, you should have at least ordered something then. How else am I going to get paid?"

I chuckle a little at that. "Alright, I'll take a Mako Special then."

"One Mako Special coming right up," she declares with a wink.

I watch her mix the drink with something akin to awe. Her fingers are deft and she looks like she knows her way around her bar so well that I'd wager you could spin her around in a blindfold and she'd still know where everything was. Not a few moments later a glass of liquid so green it might glow in the dark is set before me. I lift the glass to admire the contents more closely. The Mako Special has always been a favorite of mine because of its interesting blend of flavors, but never have I seen one made that so closely resembles its namesake.

"Very impressive, Miss Lockhart. May I ask what you've added to give it this peculiar glow?"

She looks at me very seriously but her eyes are dancing with delight. Following along with my imitation of the upper echelon, she replies, "My apologies, my good sir, but that…is a trade secret."

We keep the charade up for a little longer, but neither of us lasts long before falling to laughter. It feels good to be able to laugh so freely, and I wonder when was the last time I really laughed.

"So where are you originally from?" I ask when we finally recover, making sure that I inject just the right amount of genuine curiosity even though I already know the answer.

"Nibelheim. I don't know if you've heard of it, but it's a small little town nestled in the mountains."

"I've heard of it." I'm about to say that I know Shinra has a pretty big energy plant there but I fortunately cut myself off before I make that mistake. I doubt she'd want to hear about her ex-husband's vast reach of power into her own hometown. "It sounds like a nice place."

"I'm sure you mean it sounds like a boring place."

"No no. I've seen pictures. It's got a nice rustic charm to it."

"Rustic is just a nice word for old-fashioned in no man's land," she laughs.

I chuckle along with her. "Must have been a nice place to grow up though, wasn't it?"

"It was," she admits. "Sometimes I still miss the scent of the fresh mountain air."

"I bet you feel like you've lost ten years off your life moving to Edge here then. It's nothing but pollution in the air."

She laughs again and I find myself wanting to make her laugh more and more. There's something comforting about it, something warm and it makes me want to smile just hearing it. "Oh no. The air is better here than it was in Midgar and I lived there for nearly ten years."

"That's right. You went to Aeris' sister school." She nods in response. "Why'd you move to Midgar?"

"My father thought I would receive a better education in Midgar than I would in Nibelheim." Her tone is light, but this is obviously a touchy topic for her. I don't know where she gets the cleaning rag from but suddenly she's scrubbing down the counter with absentminded fervor.

"He cares about you."

"He did." She sees the questioning note in my gaze and explains, "My father passed away two years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's alright. He was at peace." She stops scrubbing the counter and levels me with a searching stare that has me restraining myself from squirming. "You know, if you wanted to know more background information for the case, you could have just asked me straight out."

I'm a little startled at her perceptiveness, so I take a moment to collect myself before replying. "I know. But I'd be lying if I told you I'm not curious about you outside of the case."

"I think you'll find yourself disappointed if you're looking for a dark secret of some sort."

"I'd never be disappointed with anything that has to do with you."

I'm as surprised by the implications behind my words as she is and I already regret saying them because they're not something a self-respecting lawyer should ever say to a client. She watches me with inscrutable eyes for a little longer before breaking the tension with a small smile, though I can't quite make out what she means by it.

"What would you like to know?"

And so we talked the rest of the night until closing. I find that the setting was particularly helpful because our natural pauses are taken up with people ordering drinks and her mixing them, so there's only a limited amount of awkward silences.

By the end of the night, I can't say I've learned anything new regarding the case that I wasn't already aware of, but I can say that I am now in possession of certain other facts. Facts such as how Tifa's favorite stuffed animal as a kid was a little chocobo (I blushed when she said I remind her of it because suddenly I had an image in my head of her snuggling up with me...bad thoughts, Cloudy boy. Bad thoughts.); how she's a big fan of almost any cuisine as long as there's some meat involved (now there's a woman after my own heart...); how she loves reading but will always have a guilty pleasure for mystery novels; how she once got snowed in with her father when they went hiking in the mountains and refused to eat the squirrel meat her father offered until her hunger couldn't be abated and she simply had to take a bite out of the cute little furry animal (which of course was no longer cute or furry...) and found it to be quite good actually; how she likes beaches but the mountains will always be her true love; how she could spend hours at a time gazing into the heavens and wondering how people were watching the same patch of stars as she was...

I smile at the memory of how her eyes had glazed over when she spoke of that last one. She enjoys and takes so much out of life, it makes me wonder how it's possible that I'm living in the same world.

Yes, it was a productive night indeed.

So when I settled into bed ready for a good night's sleep, I was really ready for a good night's sleep. Of course, when has sleep ever come peacefully for me these days?

Sometime around three in the morning, the faint but still audible creaking sound of someone walking across my hallway floors has me on my feet immediately. My days in the military may be long gone, but the habits that were ingrained in me will stay with me for a while yet.

My apartment, while not luxuriously grand, is still respectably comfortable in its size with two bedrooms, a conjoined living room and kitchen area, and two full bathrooms. The guest bedroom I long ago converted into something of a study and that is the direction I hear the footsteps moving toward.

Moving quietly, I pick up the large sword that's resting on the wall next to my nightstand. Some habits die hard, I suppose. Noiselessly, I make my way to the door and slowly ease it open after determining that the intruder has stopped in the study. The study door is slightly ajar and I pull up flush against the wall next to it, narrowing my eyes when I hear the intruder trying to crack my safe. I don't keep many valuables in my apartment, but what I do keep upon lock and key are my files. The files have no inherent value, but I would much, much, much rather not have anyone look at my military records.

It's not the end of the world, but they're also not something I like thinking about.

But of course, all is null and void when I see _who _it is crouched in front of my safe.

"Yuffie, what the hell are you doing in my apartment?"

"Shh! Pretend I'm not here."

"If you're trying out your stealth abilities in my apartment, I'll have you know that you're failing miserably."

I know there's something wrong when Yuffie doesn't immediately fly off the handle at my blatant insult of her ninja abilities.

"Seriously Spikes. I'm not here and I didn't visit your apartment tonight. Remember that!"

"What did you get yourself into this time?"

"Don't ask. Just remember I wasn't here tonight."

And with that she's flying out the door before I could stop her. Glancing back down at my safe suspiciously, I realize with a start that she _had_ managed to crack it and failed to close it completely before I came. My safe required a code to close as well as open. My eyes narrow. "What in the world was she up to?"

I take a close look at everything in my safe and find that everything is accounted for. In fact, it doesn't look like she's touched anything at all. It could be that she'd only just opened the safe and didn't get a chance to mess with anything inside yet.

Still, I can't shake the unsettling feeling that I'm missing something.

…

"Good morning, Mr. Strife."

Oh no, my dear Scarlet McFierce. Anytime I'm faced with you at eight in the morning is most assuredly _not _a good morning. Aloud, I'm much more civil. "Miss McFearson. What can I do for you?"

She has that calculating smirk on her face and I can't deny that it has me shaking a little in trepidation. Scarlet is not a woman to be taken lightly. "Mr. Strife," she says again with a condescending lilt in her voice. "You're a smart man, Mr. Strife, a very good lawyer with a bright future ahead of you."

"Is there a point somewhere in there?"

Scarlet is unfazed though her eyes do flash wickedly. "Not one to beat around the bushes I see. Mr. Shinra is a charitable and forgiving man with an eye for people of talent. Like I said before, you are a smart man, one that Mr. Shinra would be most pleased to employ if you would agree with his conditions."

"Are you his lawyer or his recruitment officer?"

Scarlett flashes her teeth in a fierce smile. "A little of both I suppose."

"What are these conditions?" I ask eventually, carefully masking my surprise behind an expressionless façade. I've been told that my poker face could win me millions if I ever decide to give up law. I'm pretty sure I know what Shinra wants me to do, but I can't help but feel intrigued that McFierce is here—here, as in _here_, my office!—on his behalf. I already know I won't agree to his terms (Tifa and Denzel are both too familiar now for that kind of betrayal), but I can't say I'm not interested in what he was to say.

"A very generous offer, I can assure you. If you agree with his terms, you will be placed at the head of a quarter of his legal work. That would place you below only myself and Reeve Tuesti, a powerful position indeed."

"And in return he would like me to throw the case," I put blandly.

"Such inelegant words," she says distastefully, neither affirming nor denying my words, which of course means that I'm right.

I look down for a moment in consideration. Not the option Rufus has given me, mind you, but that ever elusive _why_ question. Clearing my throat, I slowly push my seat back and stand, going around to the small bar set up in my office. Scarlet has had her fun. Now it's my turn.

Fixing a searching stare at her, I'm gratified to see her confident façade shake just a hair. For someone like McFierce, that's the equivalent to falling faint. "Tell me this, Miss McFearson. Why in the world would the all powerful Rufus Shinra fall to bribing opposing lawyers? Has he so little confidence that he will not win this case that he'll stoop so such measures?" I step closer to her in what I know is an intimidating manner. (I don't care if she's taller than me in those damn heels.) "Or perhaps he simply has little confidence in you."

She steps away and I smirk inwardly at the nonverbal victory. Oh how I lerve the intimidation factor. It's good to know that she knows that this is one card I won't lose.

Her genial mask drops instantly and if she weren't such a composed woman by nature, she'd probably be frothing at the mouth. "Listen here, Strife. Mr. Shinra is being exceedingly generous to you, though I hardly see why. You're not nearly worth the effort. This wasn't just an offer for you though; it's one for that little tramp as well."

It happens reflexively and even I'm stunned by my own ferocity when I suddenly find myself with one hand wrapped firmly—albeit not hard enough to leave a bruise—on Scarlet's neck. "Don't _you dare_ call her that."

Fear flashes in her eyes momentarily, but Scarlet is a hard-hearted bitch and the fear is replaced by a calculating and victorious sneer almost instantaneously. Knocking my hand away, she straightens and fixes her strict red two-piece suit with a renewed sense of superiority. "Watch yourself, Strife. I don't do well with threats. Like I was saying, this offer benefits your…client," the extra emphasis she puts on the word is not lost to me, "as well. Mr. Shinra only wants custody of the boy and that's all he'll take if you throw this case. He'll do much more should you refuse."

"Is that a threat?"

"No more than you threatened me," she returns nonchalantly as she studies her nails.

I hear what's unspoken. The only way I could report her and Shinra is if I also admit to the physical assault I made on Scarlet. Damn it. I'm normally much more controlled than this and now because of my sudden lapse in sanity, I've just given them another foothold.

Scarlet has fully returned to her normal McBitchy status and she makes her way to the door. She throws one more warning over her shoulder before she exits though. "I would refrain from speaking about this meeting Mr. Strife. I'd hate to have to sue you for slander."

Her awful laughter follows her down the hall and as soon as she's gone, I' throw back the rest of the Scotch. Zack peeks his head in and for once, he's completely serious.

"What did McFierce want?"

I don't answer him directly and opt instead to shake my head. "I'll handle it."

He hesitates for a moment but he knows me and knows that once my mind is made, my mind is _really_ made. I still don't like having to fight Shinra, and I know I'm still too inexplicably angry at how Scarlet addressed Tifa to be justified, but right now I couldn't care less.

Scarlet triggered my soldier instincts, and if it's a war she wants, it's a war she'll get.

* * *

Much love to: **nickJoffdaCHAIN, **Alialka, **flipped**, Calenlass Greenleaf1, **CloudRed 1988, ﻿**ZakuReno, **sakR9**, elebelly, **mom calling**, ObsessiveCompulsiveValkyrie, **lovelymokotan27**, N'Cole Ryder, **Vanilla Raindrops**, strifehart, **vLuna, **meitanteikid, **Da C****ute Snowbunny**, SorrowsFlower, **pinkparis**, TornAngelWings, **kitsune13**, Doctor Kiba, **Faith Angel**

You all are beyond awesome!


	7. The Change

A/N: Yes! I'm back with another chapter. Your support for this story has been beyond incredible and I'm definitely working hard to make sure I won't disappoint. Strangely enough, the thing that's been giving me the most trouble is writing Tifa's character. I usually LOVE writing Tifa, but it's been hard to give her a personality I'm satisfied with in this fic. Oh wells. Hopefully I'll be able to do her justice. I had an absolute riot writing the last part of this chapter though. :)

Anyhow, sorry for the super long wait, but here's the next chapter. Hope you all enjoy it!

* * *

**PRO BONO**

**Chapter Seven**

As soon as Zack leaves, I'm on the phone. I don't bother with any preamble when I finally get through. "Vincent, how's the dirt on Shinra looking?"

If he is at all put back by my unceremonious demand, his voice betrays nothing of it. _"Unexpectedly clean."_

"Clean as in recently washed or well-maintained?"

"_Well-maintained to the point of mysophobia."_

"Damn," I curse under my breath. For Vincent to say that, Rufus Shinra really has _nothing _going against him. Call me pessimistic but I find it hard to believe that a man like Rufus Shinra in control of an empire like the Shinra Corporation does not have a few skeletons swept under the rugs. If anything, I would have expected a landfill.

"_It may interest you to note the findings I made when I took the liberty to inquire after the late Shinra senior, however."_

My ears perk at that. I can definitely work with leftover dirt from previous generations. "What's that?"

"_Nothing one wouldn't expect from a multi-billionaire. Underhanded dealings, bribery, blackmail, suspicions of kidnappings and murder, et cetera."_

I whistle. Rufus Shinra is probably too busy trying to clean up his father's mess to make any of his own. I wonder how much Tifa knows about the elder Shinra's workings. Is that why Rufus is so desperate to get Denzel back? As leverage in case she talks? But if that's the case, why didn't he put up more of a fight during the first custody battle? Why the sudden interest _now_?

Too many questions and I have answers to none of them. I hate questions I can't answer.

"_I can fax my findings over about Shinra this afternoon."_

"That would be great."

"_If that is all then…"_

Suddenly I remember the incident with Yuffie in my apartment a couple of nights ago. "Oh wait, have you gotten a chance to follow up on Jenova & Sons?"

"_Yes…" _It surprises me when he hesitates. Vincent never hesitates. _"I also chanced upon one of your clients in my investigation."_

Could it be that my hearing has gone bad? It sounds like…yes, it actually sounds like _Vincent Valentine_ is annoyed. As in, annoyed enough to actually show _e-mo-tion_ in his voice. But then his words register and I realize that there is _only_ one possible person in the world that can annoy Vincent Valentine and that would be…

"_Yuffie Kisaragi, I believe she said her name was. Or rather, she called herself the 'one and only beautiful White Rose of Wutai, the Great Ninja Yuffie Kisaragi.' She is exceptionally…loud for a supposed ninja."_

My silent stupor lasts for only a few seconds before I have to muffle the receiver so that Vincent doesn't hear my chuckles. It's a funny image in my head seeing the obnoxiously loquacious Yuffie talking the ears off of the taciturn Vincent. Oddly, though the thought of them together is undoubtedly strange, it kind of fits, in an if-Vincent-is-into-younger-girls kind of way. I shudder.

"How did you manage to run into her?" Though I wonder if the better question wouldn't be how he got _away_ from her.

"_She was doing a little investigating of her own I surmise."_

I groan. That can only mean more bad news for me. "Do I even want to know?"

"_Most likely not."_

Changing the subject, I ask, "So what did you find out about them?"

"_The three brothers who own the corporation, Kadaj, Yazoo, and Loz, they are seeking something. Or rather, some_one. _Kisaragi may actually have more information about that, but I have not yet been able to track her down."_

I guess I have to hand it to her. If Yuffie doesn't want to be found, she will find ways to not be found. "Keep looking into this for me, will you? Also, take another look at Rufus Shinra's involvement with his old man's dealings."

"_Very well."_

"Thanks Vincent. Let me know immediately if you find anything noteworthy."

…

Even though Denzel has started going to school again and therefore I have no real reason to drop by the Seventh Heaven, seven o'clock sees me seated at the bar anyway. A Mako Special is set before me before I even order and I look up in surprise.

"Tough day?" Tifa asks sympathetically, leaning against the bar while perching her chin atop one hand.

I think back to my oh so pleasant conversation with Scarlet this morning and nearly snort. "To put it mildly."

"Care to talk about it?"

I shake my head. "I don't want to burden you with it."

"I'm a bartender. It's part of my unwritten job description."

"That's a hell of a job."

"It's not as bad as it may seem." I lift my eyebrow skeptically and she laughs. "Really, it's not!"

"Only someone like you could say that."

"Why's that?"

"You seem to be able to see the best in everyone. You don't pre-judge anyone and that's why people are comfortable talking to you. You make people feel as though they're real _people_."

She laughs. "You make me sound like some saint."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

She shakes her head in good humor. Then she tilts her head to the side and observes me with curious eyes. I will admit that it's kind of nerve-wracking trying to figure out what she's studying me so carefully for. "You know, it's people like you that make my job hard."

"What? Why?"

"You keep asking questions about me, but you never talk about yourself. My job is to listen to the pitiful life _you've_ had, not talk about how superior I am," she replies with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

I give a little half-laugh. "Trust me, you're much more interesting to talk about." She lifts an eyebrow and tilts her head in a fashion that says she doesn't believe me. "Really, there's not much interesting about me."

"That's what everybody says, but the world can't possibly be _that_ dull. So…tell me something about yourself."

Shaking my head, I think about it for a while. So maybe my life hasn't been dull, but it doesn't exactly make for pleasant conversation either. What can I say? That I was bounced around from foster home to foster home until I was old enough to enlist in the military? That the war changed and scarred me for life? Or maybe that I spent a year wandering the streets after the war ended because the government didn't have enough resources to pay me for my service?

Maybe that's why people like Rufus Shinra and Scarlet McFearson bug the hell out of me. They had their whole lives handed to them on a silver platter, Rufus being the sole heir of the Shinra legacy and Scarlet being the daughter of the late Shinra senior's most trusted advisor. What would they know of the many days I'd forsaken a meal in favor of buying the textbooks I needed to pass my cram classes? What would they know of the knowledge that the only choices in life were either work your ass off or starve? What would they know of suffering?

Gee, and here I thought I was done being bitter.

"Cloud?" Tifa's soft voice brings me out of my thoughts. She watches me with concern. "You don't have to tell me anything. I didn't mean to be nosy."

I shake my head. "No, it's fine." I laugh a little but we both know it's forced. "I'm just thinking of what I should say about myself."

"Only what you want to tell me and nothing you don't."

My eyes lock on hers and it's so easy to see why everyone is so willing—no, not just willing, _desperate—_to talk to her. It's etched into her welcoming countenance, a rare, unconditional acceptance that's reflected in those deep pools of understanding. It's because she genuinely cares, and I wonder how many of Seventh Heaven's customers, day in and day out, are here because they need someone to listen to them and care that they exist. And she does that for them. I wonder if she ever gets tired of it.

She really does have beautiful eyes, I notice, not for the first time.

"I'm an orphan."

I have no idea why it's this piece of information that flies out of my mouth at this time. The reason I usually don't talk much about my past is because I don't have much of a past that I remember. However, what little I do remember, I would not normally willingly volunteer. So it's a complete enigma why I would offer up this private piece of me.

"Do you remember your parents?"

I shrug. "Not much. Though, I think I took after my mom's coloring," I say, gesturing at my hair and eyes, "but they were both gone by the time I was three or so. Not much to remember I guess."

She doesn't say something trite like "I'm sorry," and I'm glad because I could never understand why people would say that in the first place. Are they saying sorry for bringing up what might be a sore subject, or are they sorry that they're dead? Or is it just something to say when you don't know what else to say? Maybe it's a combination of all of those, but it seems like such an empty phrase to me.

The dead wouldn't hear your apologies since they're long gone and I don't need an apology for something you had nothing to do with.

"Do you miss them?" she asks instead.

At first the question sounds kind of pointless to my ears. Miss them? How do I miss someone I never knew? But… "I guess I do, in a roundabout wish I could remember who they even were kind of way. But, to be honest, I don't think about my family much."

I drain the rest of my drink, wishing for a moment that it was hard liquor instead of a light cocktail. Damn it. This is exactly why I don't talk about my past. I start getting all weird feeling inside and it makes for bad conversation.

I'm just about ready to flash my patented let's-change-the-subject-smile, but her untied apron suddenly smacking the bar counter beats me to it. "Let's take a walk."

"What?" I ask startled.

She doesn't reply and instead flags down the other bartender. "Hey Johnny, can you cover for me for a little bit. I'm taking a breather."

Johnny narrows his eyes at me automatically but he's all smiles for Tifa. "Sure thing, babe."

"Thanks."

She slips out of the little door that separates her bar from the restaurant. "Let me tell Denzel where I'm going and then we can go."

I nod dumbly, not quite sure what's going on, as she heads for the stairs that leads to the living area of the building.

Once Tifa is out of earshot, Johnny comes up to me and pins me with a glare. "You're a lucky son a bitch, you know that?" I don't reply so he continues. "Tifa never spends time with a man outside of work."

That surprises me a little, but I hide it behind a shrug. "I'm her lawyer. She's supposed to talk to me."

"Naw man, that's not it. I can't put a finger on it, but she looks at you different. Damn, what I wouldn't pay for her to look at _me_ like I'm something special. Like I said, you're a lucky son of a bitch."

Despite myself, I can't help but feel slightly flustered at the prospect. That a girl like Tifa would see something special in a guy like me? It doesn't really make sense to me and I know I shouldn't get my hopes up like this, but it seems that I lose all control whenever she's involved.

I tell myself it's nothing, but even I don't believe me anymore.

…

It's a peaceful night out for once and the rare gentle breeze is a blessing on my skin. Despite the fact that it's still early in the evening, there's not too much commotion in the streets which I'm thankful for. I hate the feeling of having to shove through crowds to get where you need to go. Maybe I'm a little claustrophobic.

I glance down at Tifa who's walking quietly by my side and I marvel at the easy way we are in each other's company. Her steps are light, poised, but at the same time there's a heaviness there that I think comes from years of hard work and struggles as a single mother. It makes me wish that I could carry her burdens for her, but if not, then at least carry _her._

She's pulled a hoodie on over her work uniform and I find myself thinking it's a bit of a shame because I'm curious to see what she would look like with my suit jacket draped over her shoulders instead. It's dangerous territory where my thoughts are headed, but maybe it's something ethereal about this night, but I can't find it in me to care. For once, I want to be reckless, to forget about calculations and what may come.

I'm…at peace tonight and even though I didn't really know it, I've been searching for this kind of peace for a very long time.

"My mom used to sing to me a lot when I was younger."

Her voice is soft and she's still facing forward, so it's almost like she hasn't spoken at all. When she doesn't speak again for a while I wonder if I had just imagined it. But then she continues and all I can do is listen to her raptly.

"She had the most beautiful voice and she'd sing me to sleep at night. I remember that sometimes even my father would sit with us in my bed I'd fall asleep surrounded by warmth and love."

That soft smile she had on her lips looked so sad and wistful that I had to swallow a lump in my throat before I could ask, "What happened?"

I can't get a good look at them anymore because a stray lock of dark hair has curtained away her face, but I can imagine her eyes darkening to a deep, soul-piercing black. "Breast cancer. Took my mother away when I was eight. Daddy changed after that. It was like he forgot how to be happy. I know he still loved me, but he didn't know how to show it anymore. When he sent me to Midgar for school, I think he meant it to protect our relationship from deteriorating any further, but I still hated it."

We fall silent again, but I can't help but ask. "Why are you telling me this?"

Her brows furrow a little before she gives me a little half-smile. "You know, I'm really not sure why. I guess…I guess it's just that, after hearing about how you don't remember much about your parents, I wanted to give you one of my favorite memories of my parents for you to have." She laughs. "It made more sense in my head."

I chuckle at that. Slowing to a stop, I reach for her arm and gently pull her around to face. "In any case, thank you."

"I didn't do anything."

I shake my head. "You gave me something precious to you. So thank you."

When my hand reaches out of its own accord to tuck that lock of hair behind her ear, our eyes meet again and I'm suddenly feeling like a steel band is constricting around my chest making it near impossible for me to breathe. Almost as if I'm watching myself is some strange out-of-body experience, my fingers brush gently against her cheek and she's staring at me with huge bug-eyes, completely confused as to what I'm doing. For that matter, I have no idea what I'm doing either but my body won't listen to me and the scariest part is that I don't _want_ my body to listen to me.

I don't notice that I'm leaning in until Tifa abruptly looks away and steps back, her sudden distance leaving me feeling slightly chilled. Chilled and embarrassed beyond imagination.

I straighten immediately and take an extra couple of steps back just for good measure. "I—I'm—That—I didn't—Uh…"

Anything else I might be able to string together is quickly knocked out of my mind when somebody—a large, _heavy_ body—tackles me from the side. I land hard on the concrete sidewalk and the impact takes the breath out of my lungs. Whoever has taken me down knows what he's doing because he's effectively pinned my arms to my side which takes away the leverage I need to pry him off of me.

"Cloud!"

Tifa's voice is muffled by the large body pinning me down, and it makes me all the more desperate to make sure she's okay.

It's not easy pushing myself to my feet when there's a solid two-hundred pounds on my back, but somehow I manage to do it. Using what little momentum I have, I tip my body backwards so that my full weight lands on my assailant. It knocks his grip loose enough for me to grab his arm and turn my body while spinning him onto his stomach so that I end up with my knee pressed against his lower back and his arm twisted sharply behind him. By the way he immediately stops struggling I know that he knows that I could easily break his arm in this position.

But I don't have any time to question why the hell he suddenly attacked me because there's another man rushing me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tifa accosted by one more and there's a sudden urgency to my movements when I dodge my attacker's punch, and, as he stumbles past me, I kick out his right shin hard enough to fracture bone. I take one step toward Tifa only to be stopped by thug #1 putting me in another one of his vice-grip bear hugs from behind. Planting one foot behind me, I roll my weight to my back foot before jerking forwards and tossing him over my head to land in an ungraceful heap.

When I'm sure they're both fully incapacitated, I quickly turn my attention to Tifa only to note with great surprise that she's already calmly readjusting her clothes with the last thug cowering at her feet. When she catches my eye, she blushes sheepishly but it's with a cheeky little grin that she says, "I happen to teach martial arts."

And despite the severity of the situation, I can't help but break out into a laugh at that. The fools sure picked the wrong people to mess with today, what with one us being a fully-trained (ex) military officer and the other a martial arts master.

She crouches down to the thug she took down and pokes him. By the way he's cradling his arm, I'm fairly certain that she broke a couple of bones. "So, why'd you and your buddies attack us?"

He looks at her with fear leaking out of his wild eyes. "We're sorry! We didn't mean nothin' by it!"

She arches an eyebrow at him. "No, you were just practicing rugby on us here. Maybe I should call my cop friend and let him know that a bunch of idiots are randomly tackling people in the streets."

"Aw hell, don't call the cops! It won't happen again, I swear! We're just tight on cash and thought that you and blondie—" I let out a menacing growl here which achieves its intended effect as he swallows thickly with fear "—er, that you and your boy would be easy."

Well, he still got the facts wrong, but I can't say I'm as upset with this misconception as the prior one.

Tifa stares him down a little longer and I must say that she can cut a pretty intimidating figure. You'd never know it just looking at her, but _damn,_ does she have some nasty fire behind that glare of hers. Even I'm a little intimidated, and I'm the good guy.

She stands slowly and the thug's eyes widen perceptibly when she reaches into the pockets of her hoodie. What, do they think she has a gun or a knife or something? But she surprises even me when instead of a cell phone, she pulls out a couple of crumpled twenty-note gils. "Go get yourselves fixed up at a hospital. I don't think I broke any of your bones but you might have some sprains. I can't say the same for your buddies though."

She levels me with a glare and I return it with a "_What did I do?" _look of my own. I can't help it if I forget my own strength sometimes. Besides, they deserved it.

"What?" asks the brute nonplussed.

"You're free to stay if you want to meet my cop friend. I just figured you probably had other better things to do."

That was all the hint he needed to get up clumsily, grab the gil, help his companions up and scramble down the street.

I narrow my eyes at them. They're not just street thugs looking for easy money. It's clear from the way they fought that they had _some_ background in hand-to-hand combat. The question is why would they pose as thugs to attack us?

I wait until they're completely out of eyesight before I send her a disapproving look. "You let them off way too easily."

She only shrugs. "Maybe, but I'd like to think—as cliché as it may be—that some people just need a second chance."

I shake my head in disbelief. "I can't believe you."

Wordlessly, we mutually decide to head back to the Seventh Heaven. Whatever awkwardness there may have been from before has pretty much dissipated. Nothing like a good brawl to bring people together, I suppose. But I'm thankful because I have absolutely no explanation for the fact that I'd honest-to-God wanted to and _would_ have kissed her earlier if she hadn't moved away.

I glance at her out of my peripheral vision and sigh inwardly. How did I get so caught up with this woman in the short time that I've known her?

Even though she looks as composed as if someone had just asked her for directions rather than having just incapacitated a fully grown man twice her size, there's something about the glow in her eyes and the flush in her cheeks that strikes me. A moment later I realize what it is.

"You _enjoyed _that!"

She shrugs with one shoulder. "Fighting is good exercise."

"Remind never to make you mad. Not only would you kick my ass, you'd _enjoy_ it."

She smirked. "Better believe it, buddy."

Something tickles the back of my mind though but I haven't quite grasped exactly what it is yet. "What style is it that you practice again?"

She shrugged. "A little of everything, really. My master didn't want me to be limited by any one style."

"And who was your master?"

"Master Zangan. You've probably heard of him if you know anything about martial arts."

"You do mixed martial arts?!"

She quirks an eyebrow, obviously amused by my reaction. "No, but I guess I could if I really wanted to."

"Damn." Well, there go any manly feelings of physical prowess. This girl could quite seriously kick my ass if she wanted to. Zangan is renowned as the best hand-to-hand combatant in the world though he gave up the mixed martial arts ring years ago. It's rumored that he travels the world seeking out children with innate martial arts capabilities and trains them in his style. To be accepted as a student of his _and_ given the permission to teach—because I have no doubt that she had asked him permission to teach before she would do it—that spoke volumes of just how good, how _dangerous_ this beautiful, unassuming woman could really be.

That little buzzing feeling hasn't gone away yet, so I ask, "Where do you teach?"

"It's a little place called Turtle's Paradise. It's a ridiculously misleading name, but I heard the owner's daughter had a hand in naming it."

My frown deepens. Just when I thought the world couldn't possibly get any smaller. "That daughter wouldn't happen to be named Yuffie Kisaragi, would she?"

"How'd you know? I've never seen her in person before though."

"Oh yes you have." She gives me a questioning gaze so I elaborate. "That first time we met? In the office? That client was Yuffie."

"No way."

"Apparently, there is a way."

She shoves me playfully for my, admittedly, lame reply. I feign severe pain which only makes her hit me harder.

"Hey!"

"Watch it buddy."

"There's got to be some sort of law against lawyer abuse."

She doesn't dignify that with a verbal response but starts to punch me in the arm again. Laughing, I grab her hand before she connects. "Alright already! You're going to leave a bruise."

"Weak sauce," she purposely mutters just loud enough for me to hear.

"Weak sauce?! I'll show you weak sauce..."

And so goes the banter the rest of the way back to Seventh Heaven.

I like seeing this side of her, the side that's not always so collected and responsible, but that's joking and laughing and, yes, even punching me. She looks younger, as if many years have been shed from her shoulders, and it makes me feel younger too. I guess…it just makes me happy, seeing her laugh. Happy, and a great deal lighter.

And I don't know if she noticed it as well, but when I go home that night, I realize that I didn't let go of her hand the whole way back.

* * *

THANK YOU to: **CloudRed1988**, lovelymokotan27, **ohsnapples**, mom calling, **SorrowsFlower**, flipped, **ObsessiveCompulsiveValkyrie**, Sea-Glass, **strifehart**, meitanteikid, **Dynasty021**, N'Cole Ryder, **demonegg**, Vanilla Raindrops, **vLuna**, TornAngelWings, **xo-Vanilla-Bean**, Mayonaka no Ame, **Kattzia**, Fanfiction Fanactiction, **silverdigger**, Da Cute Snowbunny, **cerberus angel**, sakR9

(And yes, I forgot who mentioned it in their review, but I am titling all my chapters with "The C-something." It's completely random and has nothing to do with the plot, but I just thought it'd be fun and a challenge to see if I could do it. That's all. :P)


	8. The Confrontation

A/N: Hey, would you look at that? I'm alive and there's an update! Huzzah! Meh. Soooo sorry for such a long delay. If you couldn't tell by how long it took for me to get this chapter out, I had a lot of trouble with this one. I guess it's because this chapter really dictates how things are going to fall together later on and I couldn't decide which direction I wanted to take. But now that I've taken, I just have to remind myself to stick with it. :)

What am I rambling on about? The majority of you probably skip these ridiculous little author's notes anyway. Thank you so very much for your support and I hope you all enjoy this next part of the story!

* * *

**PRO BONO**

**Chapter Eight**

Our first meeting with the court-appointed custody mediator happens today. This means that I will have the immense pleasure of meeting Rufus Shinra for the first time as well as putting up with Scarlet McFearson for at least an hour. Note the sarcasm.

I know Shinra is not going to settle for anything less than full custody over Denzel and I know Tifa will never agree to that, so what this really is, is one drawn out and rather meaningless, in my opinion, albeit mandatory formality. It's not going to be pretty and I highly doubt it will even be civil.

So when I arrive at my office this morning, I expect complete peace and quiet for at least the first hour—or my first three cups of coffee, whichever may come first. What I _don't_ expect is for my boss to come flying at me with his fists.

" Bastard!" Zack's normally jovial eyes flashed dangerously with righteous fury as he brought his fist swinging around to slam into my jaw. White blinding pain flashes behind my eyelids as I stumble backwards and knock over the vase on a stand next to my office door.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" I return as I barely dodge his next punch. He comes after me again and, in a way, I think it's probably a good thing that he's so pissed off that he can't think straight. If he was a little calmer, he could probably kick my ass in five minutes flat. As it is however, the rage is clouding his movements and he's slower, less focused with his attacks. Still, any Zack that's intent on hurting me is a dangerous Zack.

I need to incapacitate him _now_ before he finishes the job of a wrecking ball in my office. Sidestepping a sloppy right hook, I grab his arm as it passes by my face and wrench it behind his back while lodging a leg behind his knee to press him face first against my desk. Fuming he struggles to get out of my hold, but he knows as well as I do that nothing he does will be able to break it. I've never been so thankful for all those damn hand-to-hand grappling classes as I am now.

Zack finally stops after a few more minutes of struggling.

"Now, have you calmed down enough to tell me why the hell you're throwing punches at me?"

He growled and I admit that I'm kind of freaked out. Zack is an easy-going guy and it takes a lot—and I mean _a lot_—to get him so angry. I'm pretty sure the last time I saw him this pissed off was…well, actually, I don't really remember him ever being so pissed off.

"I trusted you with her, Cloud! What the hell did you do to her?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Tifa, damn it. What did you do to Tifa?"

"What are you – ugh…Nothing!" I respond exasperatedly. "Will you just calm down and tell me what's going on?"

"Tifa called me this morning to ask that I give her case to another lawyer."

"And so you thought I _did _something to her? Who the hell do you think I am, Zack?" Anger fills me and it makes it harder to think clearly. No, control. I need to be under control. I exhale slowly. "What exactly did she say?"

"She didn't give me a reason, but I know Tifa well enough to know that she wouldn't ask for something like that unless there was a damn good reason."

My brows furrow. For some reason, that hurts more than it should. Damn it. Just when I thought we were coming to an understanding of each other, she has to go and pull something smart like this. And it _is_ smart because she seems to be the only one who remembers that I'm not supposed to be falling for my client.

"Now can you answer some of _my _questions now?"

Zack seems calmer now, calm enough that I don't need to restrain him anymore so I let go and take a couple of steps back.

"I didn't—" I sigh, trying to figure out the best way to phrase this. "I'll admit that it's easy to forget…certain things when I'm with her but I didn't mean to make it seem like I'm after anything. I just…"

"Just what Cloud?"

"I almost kissed her, alright? Damn it, I know it was stupid, but I obviously wasn't thinking clearly at the time."

Instead of getting angry again like what I expect, Zack surprises me when his eyes soften into ones of understanding. Almost like…he was sympathizing with me?

"Look Cloud. I know how easy it can be to fall for a girl like Tifa, and under any other circumstance, I'd probably be the first one setting the two of you up. But you have to remember that she's your client right now and that you have to act in her best interest. Seeing that this is a custody case, best interest includes keeping her reputation irreproachable. And irreproachable means responsible and responsible is _not_ having a love affair with the lawyer who's representing her. Do you understand me?"

"Of course I get it. I won't do anything stupid. Just…Let me talk with her first and clear things up before you hand off her case. If she still wants to change to someone, well then…I guess that's just how it is."

He studies me carefully for a long while and it's somewhat unsettling how serious he's being. He's never even this serious in court. Then again, his charming nonchalance is what wins many of his cases. Nodding, he finally agrees. "Alright."

He makes to leave, but I stop him with my next question. "So when are you going to tell me what happened between _you_ and Tifa?"

He freezes and looks stunned for once. "What?"

"Don't take me for an idiot Zack. I saw something between the two of you the first I met her in my office. And don't tell me you weren't overly worked up about this because of Tifa."

"It wasn't really anything."

"Zack I need to know. Even if I don't end up working this case for her, whoever _does_ can't have things popping up to surprise them in court, like if the big boss used to be involved with the client. I—we—need to know about all her past relationships, even if it was one with you."

His eyes are dark and unyielding but he knows I'm right. He's a lawyer too, after all. "We were never involved. I wanted to be, but…"

He sits down and I follow suit. "I first met her when she was going through with her divorce with Rufus. She basically wanted a second opinion. Her original lawyer was trying a little too hard to get more assets out of Rufus, but she didn't want that kind of drama. Nothing else mattered to her but that she get custody of her son; she didn't want the money, the house, anything. She just wanted Denzel. Rufus had been accommodating enough; they managed to settle out of court with Denzel going under Tifa's custody. She didn't want Rufus' money; said she'd provide for the two of them, but Rufus insisted on putting aside at least a fund for education for Denzel which she eventually relented to for the sake of Denzel's future.

"Anyway, like I was saying, we became friends through the case and I really liked her. She was—is—a strong woman, independent woman but there's something almost fragile about her that just made me want to protect her. She's beautiful, intelligent, genuinely friendly, so completely devoted to her son, and she just…She just makes people feel good simply by being with them." I smile at that. I definitely know what he means. "But…she'd also rejected me."

He laughs at himself derisively and rubs his hand against the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture. "Maybe the timing was just bad. After all, she'd just gotten divorced and she had other things to worry about than starting another relationship so soon after the collapse of one. We were on good terms when she moved away to start a new life with Denzel. We still kept in touch every now and then, but we never had the chance to meet up again, not even when she moved to Edge four years ago. I hadn't seen her in five years before seeing her again in the office the other day."

I'm quiet as I process the new information. "Does Aeris know?"

He chuckles fondly. "Yeah. I actually met Aeris through Tifa. Aeris came with Tifa to a court hearing and I just happened to see them outside. And no, because I know you're thinking it, Aeris isn't the reason we haven't seen each other in five years. Tifa and I have nothing to hide from Aeris. Aeris—beautiful wonderful Aeris that I wonder how I managed to catch a girl like that—she knew that I liked Tifa back then, and she probably knows that's there's a part of me that still does. But, she also trusts me. And I love her all the more for that. Life goes on, and maybe if things had worked out differently, I would be pursuing Tifa again now that I know she's still single, but I have Aeris now and I love her too much to do anything that'll hurt her."

He turns honest eyes on me. "So now you know. My past with Tifa is not something you need to worry about."

"You know I had to ask."

"I know." He pauses. "I'm sorry about hitting you. I guess…I'm just really protective of her still."

"She…has that effect on people, doesn't she?"

Zack laughs. "Yeah, I guess she does. Which is kind of ironic considering the fact that she could probably protect herself just as well if not better than either one of us could."

I make a humming noise in the back of my throat in agreement. "I can't believe she trained under _Master Zangan_ of all people."

"Talented girl, that one. Great catch for some lucky guy."

He slants me a look and I raise an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't want me to get involved with her."

"Hey, I just meant for the duration of this case. I say, anything after that is free game." The way he's wiggling his eyebrows at me tells me that this episode is all past and that we're on good terms again. If he can tease me about something he decked me for ten minutes ago, we're good to go. "Need any tips?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Barely. "Right, because the guy who got rejected is really in any position to be giving me tips."

His eyes light up victoriously. "Aha! So you really are interested!"

I've heard that there are certain types of beasts that can turn living objects into stone with their eyes. I wish I had one of those right now so that I could point it at Zack. Unfortunately, I don't, so I'll just have to settle with a dark glare. "Zack, shut up and get out."

"Cause you know, Aeris and I would both be happy to set up a nice candle-light dinner for the two of you after this is all done and over with. Or maybe we could—"

"Get _out_!"

He does eventually, but not before tossing out, "I know somebody with a beach house in Costa Del Sol if you're interested in a romantic getaway…!"

I'm prepared to throw my paper weight at him, but he's gone before it leaves my hand.

There ought to be a rule excluding Zack from being anyone's best friend. Of course, as luck would have it, there isn't and he just so happens to be mine.

…

My first step into Turtle Paradise makes it apparent that Yuffie had a hand in the interior decorations. The walls are clustered with all manner of weaponry, the most prominent being the row of shurikens lined up by increasing size along the right wall. The large Wutaian graph for "martial arts" is emblazoned proudly across the back wall above the sliding shoji and the left wall is lined with suits of ancient Wutain styled armor. In essence, the place looks like something out of a medieval Wutai military barracks. Lovely.

The receptionist is a diminutive young woman labeled 'Shake' by the name tag pinned to her shirt and she seems more interested in the color of her nails than a potential customer arriving through their doors. She looks up at me lazily and with a bored sigh, dutifully recites, "Welcome to Turtle Paradise. Are you looking to learn how to kick ass today or to just get your ass kicked?"

One of my eyebrows slides up. "Yuffie came up with that, didn't she?"

A look of pure contempt passes over her face. "Ugh. Please don't mention her in my presence. That spoiled little punk…" she adds under her breath. Oookay. I'm sensing some bad blood here. Looking up, she studies me a little more carefully before suddenly breaking out into a scowl. "Are you looking for the little brat? How the hell did a twerp like that land a hottie like you?!"

"Huh?!" The thought of me and Yuffie together is somewhat sickening. She's like the little sister I don't want. Shaking my head, I try again. "I'm not looking for Yuffie. I'm looking for a Tifa Lockhart. She's one of the instructors here, if I'm not mistaken."

The disgusted look clears away almost immediately and she smiles cheerily instead. The rapidity with which women can change their moods will always be a marvel to me (and the rest of the male population).

"Oooh! That makes _so_ much more sense." She picks up the phone and presses a button so that her voice comes over the intercom system. "Tifa, there's a piece of utterly delectable man-hunk looking for you." She covers the mouthpiece with her hand and asks me, "What's your name?"

I'm too startled to say anything intelligible other than my name. She nods and returns to the phone's receiver, her voice once again booming through the speakers overhead. "He says his name is Cloud Strife. I'd come out to claim him quickly if I were you."

It's not until after she hangs up the phone that I find my voice. "Lawyer. I'm her lawyer. That's why I'm looking for her."

She gives me a funny look that tells me she really couldn't care less.

I try to remember why I bother explaining myself in times like these and realize that it really is quite pointless to try. "Never mind," I mumble.

I don't quite realize how unprepared I am for this encounter until I'm standing there waiting for Tifa to come out to the reception area. It was probably a lack of foresight on my part that I actually haven't yet thought through what I should say to her. I mean, it's not as if I can just say, _"Hey, I kind of like you and I'm sorry if I freaked you out yesterday, but I think I still really want to kiss you. Oh, and I know everything will be super awkward between us now, but can I still be your lawyer?"_

Yeah, somehow I don't think that'll work out all too well.

"Cloud?"

Okaaay, and now I have no time left to think about what I'm going to say because she's just passed through the sliding shoji in the back to enter the main room.

I'm trying desperately not to focus too much on the fact that she must have just had a class or was sparring because her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail behind her though wisps of damp hair cling slightly to her face. The front of her athletic tank is moist and I can't help the way my eyes are drawn by the trickle of sweat sliding down her neck to disappear amidst the valley between her breasts. The ensemble is completed with a pair of loose drawstring shorts that shows off a tantalizing length of toned leg.

It's not right, I tell you. People are supposed to look gross after working out, not…not like _that_.

Forcefully snapping my eyes back up to meet hers, I lift my hand to scratch the back of my neck in a nervous gesture that I picked up from Zack. "Hey Tifa."

Tifa approaches me with some confusion in her expression. "What are you doing here?"

Well, she doesn't _seem_ anymore freaked out than usual, which I had kind of assumed she would be considering her phone call to Zack. I didn't think she'd want to see me again, but she doesn't look too upset at my being here. Surprised definitely, but not upset. That's….kind of odd.

I clear my throat. "Um…I wanted to talk to you."

"Okay," she responds easily as she glances at the clock mounted next to the receptionist' desk. "I have about half an hour before my next class. Is that okay?"

When I nod she motions for me to follow her to the smaller studio in the back. The area here is bereft of any of that archaic vibe that gushes over in the main studio, the off-white paint and the full-length mirror making it look like an actual martial arts school rather than a museum display of feudal Wutai.

She smiles sheepishly when she notices me looking around for a place to sit. "Ah…do you mind sitting on the mats? We don't really have any chairs back here."

I can't help but laugh at that. And just like that, the tight pressure that has been squeezing my lungs suddenly releases and I can't help but wonder why I'd felt so unsettled. She's much too easy a person to be around for that.

I follow her lead (albeit in a much less graceful form) as she settles herself down cross-legged. She leans forward a little and it reminds me of kids in elementary school sitting down together to tell secrets or make up plans for world domination….Yes, I was an ambitious kid. So what?

"So what did you want to talk about?"

It seems strange to me that she's still acting so _normal_. Am I really making too big a deal out of all this? Maybe she doesn't think anything of that almost-kiss and just requested a new lawyer because she doesn't think I'll be good enough.

That's also nothing like her, but what do I know?

Shaking my confusing thoughts out of my head, I decide on a direct approach. Tifa seems like the kind of woman that would appreciate straightforwardness. So, bracing myself for whatever awkwardness may come, I begin.

"You called Zack this morning."

She stiffens a little, but otherwise I can't get a clear read on her. "Yes."

"And you asked for someone else from our firm to take your case."

How can someone so open be so hard to read?! "Yes."

"…Is it because of what happened last night?" I realize only after I say it that if anyone were to be listening in on this conversation, this could potentially sound extremely shady. "Er…I mean, not that anything really happened last night, I just…um…Ah jeez…This is all coming out wrong."

She tilts her head to the side in quiet amusement. "It's okay. It wasn't about that. Not really, anyway…" For the first time today, she seems to remember what's been on _my_ mind the whole day. A light red dusts her cheeks and she lowers her eyelids abashedly.

Feeling the first fingers of a blush creeping up on my own face, I try to direct the conversation to an area where I'm a little more confident. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I hope you'll reconsider having another lawyer take your case. I understand if you think I'm not capable enough to win this case for you, but I really hope that you'll give me a chance to prove myself."

There. That wasn't so bad, now was it?

…Okay. Maybe it was because she doesn't seem happy to hear that. I can't say she's upset either because she's suddenly blanked everything out of her expression completely. Huh?

She seemed happy enough to see me earlier, so why does she now look so…disappointed that I want to continue fighting this case for her?

"Is that really what you want?" When she finally responds, there's something about her voice that sounds alien to be coming from her. Then I realize what it is. It's because there's no emotion in it.

My lips turn down slightly at the corners. Is this a trick question or something? "Yes…" I reply slowly, eyeing her carefully.

She smiles, but there's something wistful lingering about it. "Alright then," she says quietly.

"Alright then," I repeat just as quietly though I'm fairly certain that I missed something in this whole exchange.

She breaks the tension abruptly when she jumps to her feet, her previously pensive mood dissipating like a sunbeam cutting through morning mist. When I look up at her, she has that twinkle in her eye that strikes me as disturbingly Aeris-like. "You've learned how to fight before, right?"

"Uh…yeah, but it was just some boxing and wrestling."

Oh God. I think that evil glint has just elevated from Aeris to Zack status. I'm in trouble. I'm in a _lot_ of trouble.

"Do you mind sparring with me as a demonstration for my next class?" she asks sweetly though that devious grin completely takes away any pretense of innocence.

I stare at her incredulously. "Spar?! I thought we already established that you would own me. Badly."

I'm tempted to call that expression of hers a pout, but somehow that doesn't seem quite right because Tifa never struck me as the pouting type of girl. It still serves its purpose though because before I know it, I'm loosening my tie and heading to the changing room to put on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

With an inward sigh, I realize that I won't ever be able to deny her anything if she gives me that look.

And damn it, I was right. She kicked my ass.

* * *

Many thanks to: **Creative Spark**, Sora-Hikari, **mom calling**, hypemachine, **CloudRed1988**, ZakuReno, **Sea-Glass**, Fairheartstrife, **XD**, Mayonaka no Ame, **ObsessiveCompulsiveValkyrie**, Vanilla Raindrops (_Re: usage of "weak sauce": Ehehe....What can I say? It may be a college phrase, or a Socal phrase or a "just among my circle of friends" phrase. People around me use it a lot so I guess I just picked it up. I'm such a sponge when it comes to picking up other people's quirks.)_, **Ardwynna Morrigu**, Fanfiction Fanatiction, **kitsune13**, vLuna, **Srta Caroline**, Asterxia Sy, **Alialka**, Ashley, **ChengLinSu**, Ksim3000, **chibipinkbunny**, N'Cole Ryder, **meitanteikid**, Da Cute Snowbunny


	9. The Craziness

A/N: Gah! I seriously have no good reason why this is terribly delayed. I'd cite life, but honestly I think I've just been drained of inspiration as of late. Anywho, thank you so very much for being patient with me.

A note about the story itself. I realize there are a lot of loose threads and nearly no answers, but because I'm doing this from Cloud's point of view, I'm trying to everyone is really limited to only what Cloud sees and knows. This is difficult for me because I really just want to follow other characters sometimes but I'm working on the discipline not to. That being said, I know people are probably confused (which I won't really apologize for because that's what I'm trying to do...haha), but I will promise that answers are forthcoming.

Again, thanks for reading!

* * *

**PRO BONO**

**Chapter Nine**

There are certain cliché situations that you should always avoid at all costs. One of them includes someone calling you on the phone and telling you that they have something important to tell you and you actually going out to meet said person because, more often than not, you'll never hear what they needed to tell you until it's too late and you'll get thrown in some shitty situations along the way. Too bad no one ever told _me_ that.

So when Yuffie calls me and tells me that she has important information to tell me, I do the stupid thing and agree to meet her at a nondescript diner that she claims she's staked out several times and deemed "clean."

Understand this: when I agreed, I did it more because I wanted to take her back to Godo so that he'd stop calling me every ten minutes asking if any of my connections have found her yet. As for her very important information, well, to be honest, knowing Yuffie, that could range anywhere from "Blue is a color" to "The government is conspiring to take over the world." Though I suppose neither of those is really incorrect.

Allow me to backtrack and explain.

After that rather humiliating sparring session on my part, Tifa and I washed up to get ready for our meeting with Shinra and the custody mediator. The meeting, as expected, went absolutely nowhere. Shinra will settle for nothing less than full custody and Tifa will die before she lets that happen. Scarlet lets loose another couple of choice insults, but this time I grin and bear it in a show of high moral character. The mediator looks bored (probably because he is) and he knows just as well as the rest of us that this mediating session is a waste of time, albeit a necessary one.

By the end of it, I'm ready to gouge Scarlet's tongue out of her mouth with a pair of pliers, and I know my suit looks like I just tumbled out of bed. Even Tifa is starting to show signs of fatigue, her eyes a little less lively than usual. Then again, I wonder if that doesn't have to do with the fact that this whole shebang really upset her. I don't know if she notices that I notice, but every now and then she'll steal a glance at Rufus and her face fills with pain each time. I think she still loves him and I can't help but wonder what is there to love in a total rock like him.

I mean, the only one that doesn't look like he's gone into a no-holds barred fight with a wild boar is Rufus. In fact, he doesn't even look the slightest bit rumpled. His white suit is immaculate as always, his head of golden blond hair slicked back without a single lock out of place. The man is a machine, I tell you.

When he finally opens that filthy rich little mouth of his (no, I'm not bitter at all…), it's with a bored and blasé tone that he puts an end to this ridiculous farce we have going on. "I think we can all agree that this is going nowhere." The weary nods all around are the only response he receives. "Then I suppose our next meeting will be in court, no?"

The mediator is only too happy to comply. He just wants us out of his hair so that he can go hit a bar and drown himself in alcohol. Pessimistic? Maybe, but I've been in this arena too long to be fooled.

Regardless, there's not much to say past that and so Tifa and I leave the meeting having accomplished nothing that wasn't already known before we went into it.

Strangely enough, it's Rufus' second attachment, a tall lanky man by the name of Reeve Tuesti, who catches me by myself just outside the conference room (Tifa went to call Barret). I've heard conflicting stories about the man; some say he's the only one keeping Shinra Inc. morally sound (relatively speaking, of course), but some also say he's the dirtiest of them all. Genius, two-face…in the world of business (and law, for that matter), they're about as interchangeable of terms as you can get.

Still, there is a certain element of forthrightness about him that inclines my heart to trust him even as my rationale tells me not to.

He holds out his hand and I take it, my mind running circles wondering what he wants.

"Mr. Strife, my name is Reeve Tuesti, but I'm sure that a sharp man like you has already deduced that."

"I can't say it's a pleasure to meet you."

He chuckles at that. "Completely understandable."

"What can I do for you, Mr. Tuesti?"

He flicks his eyes over to the side and I follow his gaze to Tifa, who is still talking on the phone. "A word of advice, Mr. Strife. If you truly care for her, you'll drop this case."

It almost sounds like a threat but then there's something about him that just…Call it a lawyer's intuition, but he just sounds genuine. A warning then? It's just something that I can't put my finger on, but it's there. And it makes me want to take his advice seriously.

"Did Rufus tell you to tell me that?"

Instead of answering me directly, he replies, "Mr. Shinra has many interests." He gestures his head toward Tifa again. "She remains one of them."

My eyes narrow automatically, though I strain to keep the animosity out of my tone. "I'll keep that in mind."

Reeve nods once, before turning on his heels to take his place in Rufus' entourage.

Tifa joins me soon after and gestures questioningly at Reeve. "What did he want?"

"Just introducing himself."

She raises an suspicious eyebrow and I get the feeling it's one that she practices on Denzel a lot because I'm feeling kind of guilty and I didn't even do anything. "Oh? I think I know Reeve well enough to know that he doesn't do anything without a reason."

I feign a wince. "Caught, huh?"

She smirks and I shake my head. I don't even know what to make of the encounter with Reeve myself, much less put it into words for her. Fortunately, my cell phone going off solves that problem for me. I frown when the number shows up as anonymous.

Holding up a finger to postpone our conversation, I answer, "Strife speaking."

"_Cloud!"_

"Yuffie? Is that you?"

"_Yeah, can't talk long, but I got something you're really gonna wanna see."_

"If it includes anything that will incriminate me in your crimes, I don't want to see it."

"_Pfft! What crimes? Seriously, it's really really really important and you're gonna kiss the ground I walk on when you see this!"_

"Somehow I doubt that. Whatever it is, why don't you go home and we'll talk it through there. Godo is worried about you."

"_As if. Aw shit. Here they come again."_ The commotion on her end of the phone disturbs me because this time it sounds like Yuffie has gotten herself into some serious trouble, something way beyond shoplifting or breaking and entering.

"Yuffie? What's going on over there?"

"_Damn it! Seriously Cloudy-boy, Sam's Diner at eleven tomorrow morning. It's like I've got like a time bomb on my hands and I need to toss it somewhere quick!"_

"Yuff—" She hangs up before I can say anything in response. "Aw damn it."

"Everything okay?" asks Tifa.

"Yeah, it's fine."

She gives me that look again and I almost cave immediately. Goodness, will I never be able to deny her anything ever again?

"Don't worry about it. It's just something with another one of my cases."

"Okay," she graciously lets go, though that upraised eyebrow tells me that she knows something is up.

"Come on, let's grab some dinner. It's been a long day."

She follows me outside, but we're both painfully aware of how little I'm telling her.

Unfortunately, it's going outside that the problem really begins.

We've only taken a couple steps toward the parking structure when a familiar tingle spreads from the back of my neck, and I'm immediately on alert. I _know_ this feeling. The shiver that runs through my body is all too familiar. The sudden rush of adrenaline. The heightened sensations.

This is what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a sniper's scope.

"Duck!"

Instinctively I press a hand to Tifa's back and tuck her into me as I dive behind a nearby car. Pain lances through my lower back and the warm liquid seeping through the layers of my clothes tells me that I've been hit.

"Damn it!" I hiss when a volley of bullets rain down on us.

I pull Tifa closer against my body, shielding her as best as I can but we can only sit here for so long before a bullet ricochets and hits us anyway. That, and my side is bleeding a little too much to not get medical attention soon.

But then just like that, it stops.

The street falls eerily quiet without the cracking explosions rippling through the air, the large pillows of dust kicked up by the bullets drifting back down onto the street like small snowflakes. Everything returns to normal so quickly—too quickly—it's almost as if a storm of bullets hadn't just puckered the tarmac (and me, apparently).

"You're bleeding," Tifa whispers worriedly when her hands unfurl from around my waist wet with blood.

"I'm fine," I reply through grit teeth, but it's a total lie because I am most definitely _not_ fine. It's been a while since I've been hit by a bullet and it hurts a whole lot more than I remember. Then again, the last time I'd been hit with a bullet, I was also so drugged up I could barely feel _anything, _whether it be pain or compassion.

She doesn't believe me, rightly so, and searches for the wound with deft fingers. I flinch despite my resolve to remain stoic, but I'm glad that she isn't freaking out like most people would if they saw someone bleeding a river in front of them. Instead, her brows furrow as she murmurs, "Damn it. The bleeding won't stop." She rips off her track jacket and uses it to press against my bleeding side.

My eyes must be drooping though I don't notice it because she's suddenly cursing again and demanding me to stay awake. I want to say I'm not tired, but apparently that's a lie too because the next thing I know is black.

…

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep_.

I lash out my hand to stop the infernal chirping of my alarm clock but find that my arms are weighed down by something. Groaning, I blink my eyes open but slam them shut again when blinding white light reminds me of a headache I didn't know I had. Trying again, I slide open my eyes, slowly this time, and find myself staring at a plain white ceiling with a row of fluorescent lights lining the width of it.

I glance to the side to see rows of machinery monitoring my health. So _that's_ what that damned beeping was. For a moment, I almost panic because it feels like I'm back in the military's medical ward, but I push the panic away. It's too quiet here; not enough screams of agony and doctors bustling around me to be back at war.

Remembering the feeling of my hands being weighed down, I crane my neck to see the cause.

Brown. That's all I see for a while as my body slowly registers the silky sensation of a curtain of long dark hair splayed out against my arm. My eyes trace the delicate pattern of a familiar face, fine brows furrowed a little at the edges, long lashes feathering kisses along smooth cheeks, a high-bridged nose tapering to a graceful tip, full lips slightly parted as warm breaths play against my skin in a steady cadence.

Tifa.

My lips turn upward automatically. She's tangled her hands on top of and between mine and resting her head sideways on the mattress next to my arm. It doesn't look like a particularly comfortable position, but she's somehow fallen asleep anyway. She must be exhausted, I realize when I notice the dark bags beneath her closed eyes.

"Tifa," I try to say. However, my vocal cords aren't quite working right now and it comes out more as a croak than anything. Grimacing, I try again. At least this time it sort of sounds like her name because she stirs a little.

It's obvious that she's one of those people who can wake up right away without the customary twenty-minute groggy wake-up stage because the moment her eyes open and see me staring back at her, she jumps to her feet.

"Cloud, you're awake!" she exclaims.

That I am, unfortunately for my pounding head. Groaning, I shut my eyes to block out the sudden spike in my headache. As much as I like hearing Tifa's voice, anything above the decibel that a mouse would make is way beyond too much for me right now.

She notices my wincing and immediately reigns herself in and drops her volume. "Sorry! I'm just so happy that you're finally up."

Finally? "How long have I been out?"

"Close to two days now. The doctors said that you lost a lot of blood, but that you weren't really in critical condition. They said it was normal for your body to drop you into a coma to recuperate, but I couldn't stop worrying until you woke up though."

"Have you…been here the whole time?"

"Well, other than to drop off Denzel with Cid and Shera…" she trails off and the light red on her cheeks makes my stomach twist.

I rotate my hands so that mine are resting on top of hers. "Thanks."

She's startled though I can't say whether it's because of the way our hands are situated or that she just didn't expect me to thank her. Either way, she returns with a quick, "It's no problem," and withdraws her hands to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

...

"Rise and shine!"

I groan when the blinds are opened and piercing rays of golden sun slice across my eyelids. "Zack, I'm injured. Aren't you supposed to be nice to me?"

"I am being nice," he replies. I hear some commotion at the foot of my hospital bed and then the beautiful pop of a tupperware lid snapping open and I'm gifted with the delicious scent of beef stew. "I've come to rescue you from the evil that is hospital food!"

I don't bother rolling my eyes at him because, for once, he deserves to be cocky. "Zack, you're a saint."

"Of course I am."

He helps me sit up, fluffing some pillows behind me and hands me a utensil and a glass bowl filled with pure decadence. I dig in without any remorse. The hospital food really is _that_ bad. It makes me wonder how any of the overnight patients get better when they're fed stuff like that.

"Whoa, slow down Spikes."

"Mm, did you add something different to it this time? It tastes so much better!" I ask between bites.

Zack's shoulders suddenly slumps and he looks so down that I pause for a moment. "Damn it. Really? You too? Is it really that much better?"

"Huh?"

"Tifa made that," he confesses. "We've been competing to make the best beef stew, but I'm currently behind on votes by three."

"How many people have taste-tested?"

"…Three."

I would laugh, but Zack takes his cooking very seriously—too seriously—so I hold it in. Sort of. But then something clicks. "Wait, Tifa made this for me?"

Zack wiggles his eyebrows at me. "Yup. She dropped it off earlier when you were still sleeping and said that she'll come by again later today."

I don't know why, but the thought that she made something purposefully for me ignites something warm in me. Oh freak. I really am turning into a sap. I distract myself by eating again.

"So…" starts Zack and I know I won't like where he goes with this. "Have you gotten far with Tifa?"

I choke and after hacking out my lungs, I gasp out a strangled, "What?!"

That faux innocent look he gives me makes me want to hit him. "On the case, Cloud, the case. What did you think I was saying?"

"I hate you."

"I thought you said I was a saint?"

"That was before I knew you didn't even make the stew for me."

"I'm sure you'd appreciate anything Tifa makes way more than anything I make any day."

That's…true, I must concede.

Once Zack gets the teasing out of his system, his dark eyes turn serious. "Who do you think did it?"

I shake my head. In all honesty, I don't know. Rufus Shinra? Maybe, but I'm not confident enough in that to bet on it. "I don't know, Zack. Do you think Shinra could really do it?"

"Maybe, but something tells me that you don't believe that."

"No, not really. I mean, would he really be desperate enough to try and shoot Tifa? It doesn't add up."

"You have to admit that there's something fishy about this whole case though. It's strange that Rufus would be so adamant about fighting for custody now when he'd been perfectly compliant about it five years ago."

"Who knows?"

Zack slants a look at me. "You're doing okay though?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I should be released within the next couple of days."

"No, I mean, are you _okay_?"

I sigh. "I'm fine Zack. I'm not going to go crazy or anything just because I'm in a hospital."

"You know I don't mean it like that."

"I know. And I'm fine. Seriously."

He gives me a long, hard look before finally acquiescing. Then he smirks again. "I'm sure having Tifa come around so often helps, doesn't it?"

I bean him with my spoon, but that would deprive me of an eating utensil so I throw the remote at him instead.

Unfortunately he ducks and it clatters to the ground, sliding across the tile floor to stop right up against a pair of black leather shoes and slightly rumpled beige trousers.

"Destroying private property there, son?"

"Detective Highwind." I sit up a little straighter despite myself. "What can I do for you?"

The detective looks as grizzly as ever and it looks like it's been a rough couple of days for the guy. Then again, I get the impression that he often looks this hassled. "Mr. Strife. You feelin' up for some questions? Gotta get this damn report in."

"Of course.

"Mind givin' us a couple 'a minutes, Fair?"

"Oh right. Of course," replies Zack before picking up some of his belongings and exiting the room.

Cid turns his attention back to me. "We already got a pretty good idea of what happened from Tifa, but I was jes' hopin' you could fill in some blanks."

"Of course."

"Tifa says that you suddenly told her to duck. Not a second later the first bullet hits the air where your head shoulda been. How'd you know someone was gonna shoot at you?"

I give him a wry smile. "I was in the military during the war. Get shot at enough and it just becomes one of those things you start sensing, you know?"

Cid chuckles. "Yeah, I know. I was fighter pilot then, member of the Alpha Phoenix."

"No kidding? You must have been one hell of a pilot then to be in part of the Alphas."

"What's all this past tense shit? I still am one helluva pilot." We share a laugh. Nothing like good old camaraderie and memories of blood and gore to bring people together. "What division were you in, son?"

"SOLDIER 1st."

He whistles lowly. "You crazy son of a bitch. How old were you?"

"Eighteen."

"Just a kid."

"A lot of us were."

He makes a little grunting noise in the back of his throat before bringing the topic of conversation back to where it's supposed to be. I'm not complaining. Memories of the war are not my favorite. All that talk of military changes Cid's approach though because he goes straight into dropping the metaphorical bomb without all the roundabout crap cops usually do.

"Those bullets weren't meant for Tifa. They were meant for you." Cid watched my expression closely. "But yer not surprised."

"Like I said, I know when someone's gunning for me."

"There anybody who wants you dead?"

That makes me kind of want to laugh. "I'm a lawyer. Everyone wants me dead."

Cid rolls his eyes. "Anybody want you dead who has the means to make you dead?"

The cases I've taken have never been high-profile enough for anyone to get that desperate. Sure, I've upset a couple of rich ass pigs on behalf of Yuffie, but none of them have the balls to try something like this. It seems like the only person I've really pissed off recently is Rufus Shinra, but is he really ruthless enough to kill me for it?

"Not that I can think of."

He raises an eyebrow suspiciously but he doesn't expose my lie. He knows I'm lying and I know that he knows it, but sometimes that's just the way it goes. "Fine. Give me a call if anymore weird shit goes down."

"Of course."

* * *

Thank you: **Sea-Glass88**, mom calling, **Fanfiction Fanatiction**, CloudRed1988, **ObsessiveCompulsiveValkyrie**, Valentine'sNinja, **ZakuReno**, vLuna, **kitsune13**, hannehbuns, **Chibi Emo-Chan**, hypemachine, **ann**, Vanilla Raindrops, **Shari Joy Rose**, Tiny Cherie, **Da Cute Snowbunny**, Synfully, **N'Cole Strife**, scoliosisr2d2, **Ardwynna Morrigu**, Awesome:), **Divide**, 7th-HartStrife-Duh, **Bluishorbs**, sakR9, **xxAlmightyKanamexx**, Tifa4Buhay, **rokusan23**


	10. The Consolation

A/N: First of all, a massive thank you to all you patient readers for having waited almost three months for this next chapter. The time between this update and the last chapter has seen me graduate from college, become the proud aunt of a healthy baby boy, and suffer through the all the issues surrounding the problem of entering the "adult" world. Sadly, that transition has been less than smooth and I'm still figuring my way out.

It's been nice though, in that these last couple of months have given me the opportunity to look through how much I've grown as both a writer and a person since I first joined the fanfiction (dot) net community six years ago. Reading through some of my older works makes me cringe at times (a lot...haha) but you all have been an amazing encouragement. I've been able to interact with some incredibly talented writers here as well as having been the humble recipient of much gracious praise and constructive criticism. Thank you for helping me develop my writing skills as well as truly forming a part of who I am as a person.

Anyhow, now that all that reflective and mushy stuff is all over, here is (finally) the next chapter! Again, I'm terribly sorry for the horrendously long wait!

* * *

**PRO BONO**

**Chapter Ten**

My muscles are a bit cramped from having been confined to a bed for four straight days—albeit two during which I was unconscious—but it feels good to be moving around on my own again. Physical therapy is a dozy, but at least I can stretch out my muscles some.

Fortunately for me, none of my bones shattered. Unfortunately, the bullet did some hefty tissue damage. As it is, my wounds will probably take another couple of months to heal completely, but as long as I don't do anything overly strenuous and tear open the stitches, I should be fine. Of course, it should be noted that being discharged does not equate with not hurting. I remember that little fact every night when I try to turn in bed only to find my body responding with a white jolt of pain.

Sometimes I think that's the only good thing about what the bastard doctor did to me back in my military days…at least then I was too drugged up to notice that my body was in serious pain.

Anyhow, as much as I'd like to be out of here, I can't say whether it would be better to stay hospitalized though because as soon as I'm released, we'll be going to our court hearing. You know what they say. No rest for the wicked.

But to be honest, I must say that I was surprised that the honorable judge Sephiroth was willing to let us postpone the hearing until my release. I guess he has human emotions after all. Who'd have thought?

Granted, it's not like I've been able to do much but look over my notes (thank all that is good for laptops) for both this case and trying to track down Yuffie. I don't know why I feel the persistent urge to kill her, but I'm sure I'll find a suitable reason eventually.

"Cloud! What are you doing walking around? I thought the doctor said to take it easy."

Tifa. I have to smile even though she makes me feel like a petulant child with that tone of hers.

"Yes, exactly. The doctor told me to take it easy. He didn't tell me to stop moving altogether. Besides, I just got up not too long ago."

She raised an eyebrow at me. "Oh yeah? The kind nurse over there told me that you've been at this for nearly an hour already. That's too long to go at a time."

"Oops?" I try the whole innocent saintly look, but she's not buying it. I guess it only works for people like Aerith.

She rolls her eyes but it's all in good nature. "Come on, let's get you back to your room."

Tifa tucks herself under my right side, the uninjured side, and drapes my arm over her shoulders as she guides me back to my wheelchair. The gesture—while sweet, makes me think all sorts of thoughts I shouldn't be thinking—is somewhat unnecessary since I'm capable of making the short trip back without even a crutch, but I'm not about say anything…

It's…nice, having her there, holding me up. I dare say there's even something poetic about it or something like that, but I'm more concerned with how right it feels to have her close to me. It's tempting to lean over towards her, just a little more so that I can lightly press my cheek against the crown of her head, her soft hair silken against my skin.

I don't know how to put it into words exactly, but the feeling I get is almost like coming home. Not coming home to an empty, bachelor's apartment where I sleep and eat, but _home_. The kind where the talking is too loud and the chaos too harrowing, especially when everyone makes the trip back for the holidays. The kind where the kids are running amok with sticky fingers and chocolate smeared around their mouths and where Uncle Benny is starting to get a little tipsy and where everyone tries to avoid Aunt Susie's new and improved quiche though she slathers a generous portion on your plate so you have to eat the first bite and slide the rest surreptitiously into the dog's food bowl. It's the kind where your mom sees you getting rid of the quiche of death but she doesn't call you out; instead, she smirks with a knowing light and pretends to have not seen anything. It's the kind where you feel warm and loved and you never want to leave the comfort of _home_.

It's amazing to me because I've never had that home myself. I've only heard others describe it with a nostalgic smile on their faces, but I never put much thought into it.

But when I'm with Tifa, I get what they're talking about because that's exactly what I feel. It's home.

…

"How long were you in the military for?"

The question comes out of the blue and it surprises me from giving a response for a while.

After Tifa had pushed my wheelchair (and me in it) back to my hospital room, we spent the time prepping her for court. She gets a little nervous every time I mention the actual court aspect of it, but I know she'll do well. If nothing else, she's honest and genuine and I'd like to have enough faith in our jurors to believe that they'll see that. Of course, I can't have too much faith or else I'd just be an idealistic fool, so despite being confident that Tifa will not have a complete meltdown, there's still much to train.

I'd drilled into her the importance of staying calm and being careful with her words and we ran through a couple of practice sessions, asking questions and making accusations that Shinra's representative might say. As I had anticipated, Tifa was naturally gifted with her speech and it made me wonder how much she truly resembled her namesake.

Lockhart. Locked heart. Emotions under lock and key. She always has such acute control of herself. Maybe it's from the martial arts training, but she's so good at masking her true feelings.

After that, we'd fallen to a comfortable silence, me reviewing more notes and Tifa thumbing through a novel she'd brought with her. (She blushes the prettiest shade of red when I arched an eyebrow at the mushy-sounding title and the equally incriminating cover art; she _claims_ that it's a mystery novel…right…)

So when she suddenly asks about my tenure in the military, I'm a little thrown.

"Long enough," I reply, a little wryness crawling into my tone.

"Long enough to make nightmares out of it?"

The corners of my lips pull downwards. "How'd you know?"

"You sleep-talk."

"Hn. Didn't know I did that." I try to pull off the blasé, don't-really-care mannerism, but Tifa doesn't buy it. Not for a moment.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," I reply candidly. As much as I really do like Tifa, some things are better off left to fragmented memories and the whisper of nightmares.

"Okay."

She doesn't seem offended by the blunt reply and while I'm grateful for how graciously she lets the subject go, something in me feels like I've cheated her. I don't even realize I'm talking until I notice Tifa shift her full attention back to me from her novel.

"I joined the military straight out of high school. I didn't really have too many options. I didn't have enough money to go to college and my grades weren't good enough to get me in on scholarship, so I enlisted figuring that I could save up some money from the army salary and go from there. Who could have guessed that six months after I joined, we would go to war with Wutai?"

She puts a hand on my arm, her eyes shining bright with compassion. "Cloud, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I know. You don't have to listen if you don't want to either," I joke weakly.

"Cloud…" She frowns and I sigh.

"I'd rather you know than anybody else," I reply honestly. It's strange because it's true. I've only know her a couple of weeks, but I find that, while not necessarily easy, it feels _right_ telling her things I've never told anyone else before, some that even Zack didn't know.

Settling back on the pillows cushioning my back, I let my eyes focus on the drab white walls. "Basic training was every bit as hellish as you might imagine for a scrawny little kid my size. I was never tall but I was always relatively athletic, but when I met guys who could easily bench two of me, I started feeling really out of my element. Luckily, I met some guy named Zack there—" she chuckles, but I know that it's a courtesy laugh more than anything "—and we got to be really good friends. We were in the same unit when they deployed us."

A soft, hesitant touch on my arm sends bolts of awareness through me. I look down and notice that I'm clenching my fists tight in the bed sheet. So much for playing this off cool. I relax my grip and Tifa sends her hand sliding into mine, squeezing it lightly in encouragement. She smiles at me when I look up.

Nodding, I continue. "The first couple of weeks were a complete shock. I knew that war would not be pretty or anything near as romantic as people always think it is, but nothing could have prepared me for the levels of sheer carnage. We rolled in there with tanks and machine guns and literally tons of explosives to drop on their villages. They came at us with machetes and bamboo-made shields. It wasn't war; it was a massacre."

"I remember seeing some of the pictures. It must have been horrible." She shivers and her eyes are alight with sympathy and it helps get the next part out.

"I…had a hard time coping. I already had problems with motion-sickness; not a good thing when we spend upwards of five, six hours a day in some sort of transport vehicle, so it made it even worse that I couldn't stomach the blood and violence. I started going to one of the army doctors there, a complete whackjob—though I didn't know it at the time of course—by the name of Hojo. He'd give me an injection every couple of days to settle my nausea from motion-sickness. It worked for a while, and it actually even helped with stomaching the carnage. Or maybe I was just getting inured to the sight of blood. Whatever it was, I was thankful I wasn't spending half my day heaving my last meal. The food was bad enough going down; it was worse coming back up.

"But, after a couple of weeks, the injections seemed to stop working so Hojo increased the dosage. Again, it kicked in immediately; in fact, this time, for whatever reason, I felt stronger after every injection and it wasn't just nausea that made me want to get them anymore. In reality, my motion-sickness had been all but cured. Looking back, there were so many signs that made it clear that I was starting to become dependent—addicted—to those damned injections, but I wasn't thinking clearly at the time. You have to understand, growing up I was always known as the runt. I was small and scrawny and easy pickings. Even after basic training, I was stronger but nowhere near the caliber of guys like Zack. But after those injections, man, it was such a thrill, to be able to outrun, outmuscle, outshoot all those guys that had made my army life living hell."

My eyes go out of focus and I realize that even now, thinking back on those times makes me still lust after the sheer ecstasy in my blood and the power it afforded me. I shake my head free of the lingering claws of addiction and avoid Tifa's steadfast gaze. I know it wasn't my fault, but I can't help but feel ashamed.

"Zack noticed, of course, and he tried to warn me, but I was too enthralled with the power to really care. I was a jackass then and I threw off his concern, sneering that he was just jealous of my new-found success. I wonder all the time how he ever forgave. Then again, Zack has always been the better man."

I say that with complete honesty. There's a lot more crap that I did to Zack back then, but I'm too ashamed to admit it now. That I treated my best and only friend, the one man who stood by me when he could have just as easily ignored me, in such a way…I owe Zack a lot. He always tells me to forget about it, but I can't. I owe him everything.

Tifa squeezes my hand and I wonder when our fingers became entangled like that. "Zack _is_ a good man, but you are too. You're helping me with Denzel, after all, and against Rufus too. I know the power he wields. It takes a brave man to do that."

I smile weakly at her, but though she means to encourage me, she couldn't have picked a subject more shameful for me than that. I want to tell her that I'm not a good man, that if Zack hadn't essentially forced me to, I wouldn't have glanced twice at her case.

"Tifa…" Words fail me and I have even further proof that I'm a coward. Because, prideful man that I am, I don't want her good opinion of me to be tainted. I want to be that man she sees. That honorable, good man. I wonder how I can ever reconcile that desire with the reality of who I am.

Leaning forward, the curiosity etched into her eyes is like that of a little girl hearing her favorite bedtime story. Too bad this is about as far from a fairytale as anything.

"What happened?"

Bracing my head back against the pillows, I continue, "I got arrogant on one of our missions and I got shot. Stomach, legs, back, I was a walking target."

The way she suddenly gasps makes me want almost want to grin with silly boyish pride. Like being shot at proves anything other than a complete failure for any self-preservation instincts to kick up. Then she eyes my hospital gown like she can see beneath it and it fires a sudden flush of something hot through my veins. "Do you have scars for all three of those?"

"Seven, actually. Or at least, that's how many bullets they found. Scars I have aplenty, but most of them weren't from bullets."

"Gaia, how did you survive?"

"I don't know. I really should have died, especially since I didn't feel the pain and kept on running when I should have been putting pressure on my wounds and trying to stop the flow of blood."

"How do you not feel…?" Her eyes widen in realization as it dawns on her. "The injections. They increased your threshold for pain."

"Up until I didn't feel even a pinch. After that whole fiasco, Hojo got found out. Apparently he was testing out his new steroid drug on soldiers and I happened to be one of the lucky ones he picked. He was court-martialed for putting soldiers in danger. As for me…well, it took months to get over my addiction. Half the time I was forcibly tied to a hospital bed and left to writhe in agony."

That is putting mildly. For three months, they strapped me to a thin cot while I thrashed and kicked with tendons bulging and eyes bloodshot so I looked like a veritable demon. I would scream with agony and I still remember all the times they had to bring in at least a half dozen soldiers to restrain me. Zack later told me they had to clap on restraints made of reinforced mythril because my unnatural strength broke through so many of the usual ones.

What was even worse were the moments of clarity. Because those were the moments when the screams of Hojo's other victims would sound out all around me. We were all put in the same sick bay after all. And there was always someone screaming.

"Oh god, that's why Zack is so worried about you being in the hospital by yourself!"

"How did you know?"

She blushes but it's without any embarrassment that she says, "Zack was very adamant about my visiting often, not that he needed to ask. He wanted me to make sure you're okay and not going crazy. I thought he was kidding, but now I get it. It's because you don't have good memories of being in the hospital, isn't it?"

"Yeah…"

I should have known Zack would do something like that. Always looking out for me. Best friends like that don't just pop up all the time, and I'm damned bloody lucky that he's there. I know I didn't do anything to deserve friends like him and Aerith and…Tifa too. I definitely don't deserve Tifa.

We fall silent for a while, each trapped in our own thoughts, until Tifa very gently untangles her hand from mine. My stomach drops and a plethora of irrational fears suddenly bombard me. Do I disgust her ? Would she ask for another lawyer again? After all, she has pretty good reason. What am I but a glorified ex-druggie in a business suit?

My illogical fears are quickly put to rest.

Her slender fingers graze my cheek before journeying up to sweep back that stubborn lock of hair that always falls into my face. Her fingers are not soft and pliable, but they're slightly calloused and strong. The brush of her fingers against my face tells me that she's a woman who works and works _hard_ for a living; they tell me that she's strong and deserving of all the diamonds in the world, but she'd rather have her integrity. They tell me that she's the kind of woman that deserves to be loved. They tell me that she's the kind of woman _I_ want to love.

"I'm sorry if it hurt to bring up the subject, but I'm not sorry I asked. You are a good man, Cloud."

I'm paralyzed as she leans in to press her lips lightly against mine. It's a chaste kiss, one that's probably meant more to comfort than to elicit desire, but I can't help the way my blood starts to pound in my veins or the way every fiber of my being demands that I take her into my arms and show her what a real kiss should be like…

She pulls away before I have the opportunity to try. With one last caress of those beautiful fingers, she gathers up her things. "I need to get to the _Seventh Heaven_ for my shift. Thank you for trusting me, Cloud."

I can only nod and stare numbly at her as she leaves.

* * *

Thank you: **xoxo**, newly converted sephti fan, **Fanfiction Fanactiction, **Tiny Cherie, **mom calling**, CloudRed1988, **Tifa4Buhay**, SorrowsFlower, **Vanilla Raindrops**, ORACLE AT DELPHI, **ZakuReno**, FeatherBerry, **rokusan23**, Bluishorbs, **flipped**, Chibi Emo-Chan, **vLuna**, N'Cole Strife, **silverdigger**, hannehbuns, **kitsune13**, Fairheartstrife, **Sea-Glass88**, Anonymous 25, **7th-HartStrife-duh, **ReNeVIerE07, **cerberus angel**, Da Cute Snowbunny, **Meilinoa**, Deunan4eva, **zodious, **Ardwynna Morrigu


	11. The Caper

A/N: Holy cow! What's this? An update? Wow! I gotta say that I didn't think it would ever happen. Haha...but sarcastic!Cloud wanted in on the fun, and who am I to deny Cloud anything? Hehe.

Contrary to what I initially thought about having to do a mass do-over, I've barely touched the previous chapters because my new direction for the story incorporates them just fine. The only chapter that's received any changes is Chapter four, but even then, they're super minor fixes so it's not really necessary to go back and re-read it. Unless, of course, it's been so long that you've forgotten what happened...like I did. hehe.

Anyhow, that's it and I hope you all enjoy the new chapter! Yay!

(Random, but cool accomplishment: How's this for productivity? I've made so many updates recently that I've exceeded the number of documents allowed on the Doc Manager upload. Huzzah! Haha...with my history of updates, this is a big deal for me.)

* * *

**PRO BONO**

**Chapter Eleven**

Just like there are certain cliche situations that you should avoid at all costs, so too are there certain things that no person in their right mind would ever want to wake up to. Bullets flying overhead, bombs dropping, nuclear wars, a world shortage of beef… Sadly for me, I wake up to the worst one: Yuffie.

I take stock of my surroundings, years of military training too engrained in me to do anything else. I'm still in the hospital, it's dark, and Yuffie...isn't. The strange and _bright_ hues of her outfit boggle my mind even as I try to figure out what she's doing here. Nope. Thinking isn't working. I don't think I really want to be able to understand Yuffie's...unique brand of thought. Not even _I'm_ that far into insanity.

So I end up just asking. "Yuffie, what the hell are you doing here?"

She tsks at me like _I'm_ the juvenile delinquent in the room. "Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to hide something from someone."

Oh really? I thought you were trying to be a traffic hazard.

Knowing better than to bait Yuffie if I want straight answers, I follow her lead. "And what are you trying to hide from whom?"

"Ooo...very impressive, Mr. Spikey. You just asked me two questions in one sentence. No wonder you're a lawyer."

I know there's a reason I'm not supposed to strangle her, but if I conveniently forget that reason, I could always plea insanity right?

"Just tell me what's going on."

"Pfft. _Someone's_ getting grumpy in his old age."

"Yuffie..."

"Alright already. Chillax, man." Her eyes narrow in remembered offense. "You know, you'd already know everything if you'd just showed up at the diner."

"I was a little busy getting shot at, at the time," I reply dryly.

"Still, you totally should've sent an email or something. Do you know how dangerous it is for me to stay in one spot for so long? And I waited a whole _half and hour_ for you! The Great Ninja Yuffie waits for no one. Seriously."

Half of me wants to bash my head into the wall. The other half wants to bash Yuffie's head into the wall. Still, saying anything along those lines will only make this excruciating process longer and me no closer to figuring out what she's up to. Gritting my teeth, I bite the bullet. "Okay, I get it and I'm sorry about missing the appointment. Now can you tell me what this big mystery is all about."

She nodded graciously as if all I had to do was apologize nicely. Never mind the fact that I didn't really do anything wrong. "That's better." She plops herself down at the foot of my hospital bed and she just barely misses sitting on my foot. "Soo…you know how I stole—er, borrowed indefinitely—something from Jenova and they ended up hunting my ass?"

Don't remind me. "Yes."

"Yeah, well, let's just say Jenova and Sons have been very naughty. As in fraud and money laundering naughty. Which funds their creepy science experiments."

My blood runs cold. The phrase "creepy science experiments" just brings to mind bad bad memories of screaming and pain and metal restraints digging into my flesh. How disturbing to think that one of the world's top retailers would be involved with something like what Hojo did to me.

If Yuffie found out something like _that_, she was basically dead. It doesn't matter how good she is at running; they will be after her until she is just a body in the gutter. And then _I'll_ also be a body in the gutter because I'm too closely connected with her to escape their purview.

"How do you know all this? Do you actually have evidence?" I'm not sure if I want her to say yes or no. If she says yes, then at least we'll have something to barter our lives with (freaking Yuffie has tied my name to hers irrevocably with this). If no, then I could always pretend Yuffie is clinically insane—which I'm not sure she isn't.

I know I'm doomed when she digs into her pockets and extracts a small flash card. "Tada! Evidence."

I look at it suspiciously. "They just had all their nefarious deeds put together on a flash card for you to steal at your convenience?"

"Pfft, of course not. I put it all together into this little baby."

"How'd you get the information in the first place?"

"Ah, a little good computer work never hurt anybody. Except Jenova. Nyuk nyuk!"

Will this nightmare never end? I won't even begin to comment on whatever the hell kind of noise she just made. "You're telling me that not only do you break into homes and pick pockets, you're also a hacker."

"Of course I am. I wouldn't advertise myself as being able to get past any lock if I didn't include data encryptions."

The fact that Yuffie was so well-versed in computer technology would have impressed me…if she didn't use it to break laws. And then one of the words she said snagged my attention.

"Advertise? You actually made a business out of breaking and entering?"

"Well duh. Where do you think I get the money to buy all my awesome gadgets? I sure as hell don't get it from Godo."

Wow. Yuffie just doesn't stop surprising me. Again, I'm torn between being impressed and depressed. Yuffie obviously has a good head on her shoulders when it comes to all things thievery, but all that wealth of criminal-savviness must have left her a little lacking in the common sense department. Unfortunately, that means that Yuffie likely isn't going to get out of her petty thieving ways unless she can somehow find a legal job that lets her do stuff like that.

"Okay, let me get this straight. You broke into the headquarters of Jenova and Sons and stole something that still remains unnamed. When they started hunting you down, you decided it be a good idea to hack into their accounts and record evidence of their breaking the law. And now they're probably out for your blood. Do I have that about right?"

She waves the hand holding the memory card and I almost want to jump out of bed and secure the damn thing before she accidentally tosses it away. "Eh, more or less."

"Is it _more_ or _less_?"

The pause before Yuffie speaks again does not bode well. "You know I'm not sure. I never really got how that phrase works. I mean, when you say more, do you mean is that closer to what really happened or that it's more far off?"

"Yuffie!"

"Alright, less! Whatever that means. But really, the only difference between your version and mine is that I skipped a step. I broke into their HQ specifically so that I could hack into their computer system." She must have noticed my gaping expression because she rolls her eyes at me. "So I might have gotten curious about them after one of my former clients suddenly 'disappeared' after asking me to look into the company. My guess is he's a body in a ditch somewhere by now."

It's eerie how closely Yuffie's words match my previous thoughts. Eerie.

"So what are you planning on doing with that now?" And then I ask the more important question. "Why did you drag _me_ into this?"

Yuffie shrugs. "It's not like I can just waltz into the nearest police station and turn it over. I doubt that Jenova and Sons don't have some connections in high places, and if I did that, I'd be walking myself straight into prison. I came to you 'cause I figured you'd have your own connections since you, you know, work with the law and all that."

I feel kind of at sea. This new, perceptive Yuffie is frightenly logical. And _right_.

"So what, are you just going to give me that?"

"Yes? This is just one copy anyway. I always thought people in movies are uber stupid when they don't think to make extra copies. Like hello? You have the means to take down major evil conglomeration and you rest all your tiny little hopes in _one_ single piece of evidence?" She tosses the memory card to me and I almost expect it to weigh a ton for all its importance. "You know, you really should invest in a better safe. I was going to just leave this in there, but that thing has _no _security whatsoever. I'd be able to break into that thing with my eyes closed _and_ one hand tied behind my back."

"So _that's _what you were doing in my apartment that night."

"Yep. Though for an old man, you've got some pretty good reflexes to catch me in your place."

Old man? Like hell. I happen to be in my prime right now. Old man…

Yuffie continues on oblivious to my fuming. "Then I thought about dropping this off with your little girlfriend. You picked up one of my martial arts instructors." She frowned. "I didn't think you had it in you."

My entire body stiffens. "What girlfriend?"

"Kinda hard to miss, Spikey, if you're trying to keep a secret. You know, boobs and ass? Though how _you_ landed a babe like _that_ is a mystery."

"Keep Tifa out of this."

"Blah blah blah. 'sides, she's already involved all by herself."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Yuffie opens her mouth to respond, but then she pauses and cocks her head to the side. "Aw dammit!" She rushes over to a vent whose grill has been removed—all the while muttering about dogs with bones and I think I catch the word "Vinnie" in there somewhere—and I realize that's how she got in. "Well, it's been fun, Cloudy-boy. But now I gotta go!"

"Wait, what were you saying—" she disappeared through the vent "—about Tifa…Damn."

Just more questions for me. Hoorah. Not.

…

The day I get released from the hospital is a happy day indeed. Or at least it should have been.

Then I go and take my first step into my apartment and am brought down by a freaking freight train. At least, that's what it feels like to my sore muscles and barely-begun to heal bullet wounds. Ah damn, that...would be my stitches popping.

Son of a—

Freight Train lands on top of my back and in spite of the pain, I try to get some leverage by pushing myself up by my arms. As much as I'd like to brag that I can bench two-hundred on a bad day, this guy has got to top that by at least fifty pounds. And by fifty pounds, I mean fifty pounds of pure muscle weight.

He presses one freakily built forearm against the back of my neck and presses my cheek so hard into the carpet (thank God it's not marble, or else I'd be short a couple of teeth) that I'm definitely going to be sporting pockmarks when I get back up. My hands are free, but the most I can is flail my fists around, though even I know that the punches I land are completely ineffectual.

Screw it all, I hate being restrained.

Growling, I bite out, "Who the hell are you?"

Apparently Freight Train isn't alone because I see a pair of freshly shined leather boots step in front of my face. That's all I can see, but it's obvious where Freight Train is the brawns, Boots is the brains.

"Where is it?" asks Boots.

Did I say brains? Why do all villains ask such inane questions like that? I mean, never mind how stupidly vague he's being that I have no idea what he's talking about, but then even if I _did_ know something, I wouldn't be inclined to tell anyone who's holding me down anything.

"You know, normal people would have knocked on my door _after_ I was inside. For that matter, normal people wouldn't be kneeling on my kidneys," I say instead of responding to his question.

Apparently Freight Train isn't amused because his knees drive even deeper into my back. I hold back the scream I want to let out when the rough material of his pants chaffs tender, healing flesh, and I feel warm liquid trickling out of my wounds. Damn. If I need to make another trip to the hospital after this (_if_ I survive), I'm going to be seriously pissed.

"Where is it?" repeats Boots.

I think I subconsciously have a death wish because my mouth runs off before my mind can filter the words. "Gods, talk about a lack of originality. If you're going to be the villain of this piece, the least you could do is take the time to be unique."

Right on cue, Freight Train digs into my back again. White stars explode behind my eyelids and I know I'm not going to last long like this. I'm still weak from blood loss and though I'd gotten a transfusion, I can feel my strength leaking out along with my blood. I realize I really might not survive this, but there's no flashing of my life before my eyes. In fact, the only thing I can think of is how much I regret not kissing Tifa properly.

Goes to show where my priorities are.

"No more playing around, Strife. Where is it?"

It shocks me to hear him call my name although it really shouldn't. The dudes showed up inside my own apartment after all. Vaguely, I wonder why everyone and their mother is suddenly after my ass. I'm just a lawyer, for God's sake. A damned good one, that's for sure, but still just a lawyer.

My ability to use logic is obviously the first to go because I surely shouldn't be thinking about why everyone's suddenly out to get me when I'm about to kick the bucket.

Getting tired of Freight Train cutting off my circulation, I try the truth. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about. You've got the wrong guy." Or at least, part of the truth, because I suddenly have this sinking feeling that I'm already paying for Yuffie's misdemeanors.

Boots crouches down and I get the first good look at one of my two assailants. Apparently the guy has a fetish for black leather because that's all he's wearing. I think women would consider him good-looking, but to my eyes, he looks very…girly. Not even taking the long silver-blond hair into account, his features are too soft and feminine for a guy. I mean, annoying as it has been, I've had some people comment on how girly I sometimes look, but this guy takes hermaphrodite to a whole new level.

Still, for all the girliness about him, his eyes—a freaky moss-green that are slitted almost like a cat's—are nothing but vicious. I don't think I want to know what kind of BDSM clubs he frequents because he's a wee bit too happy about my pain.

"Cloud, Cloud, Cloud," he chides, "you're wasting both our time with this foolish resistance."

Yup, and you're wasting both our time with your typical bad guy taunts.

"I said I don't know what you're talking about. You already broke into my apartment; I don't have anything here." Thank God I'd thought to drop off the memory card at a secure location before coming home. Apparently my survival instincts aren't all shot.

Boots' eyes narrow but he smooths it away quickly into a nonchalant shrug. "That's unfortunate. I suppose we have to go after the woman after all."

Despite the fact that there's not much left in me to lose, my blood runs cold. "What woman?"

"She's quite pretty, that one. Such long beautiful hair, and such a nice set of…assets. It'd be such a shame if anything were to happen to her."

My vision goes red. The thought of anything happening to Tifa both terrifies me and enrages me, and it gives me a momentary burst of strength enough to buck Freight Train off my back. Rolling out from under him, I get to my feet as quickly as I can, but the blood loss is worse than I thought it was because I'm definitely feeling woozy.

I only get a second to see Freight Train, but his looks are exactly as expected. He's a bear of a man, all bulging muscles and don't-screw-with-me expression. His cropped hair is the same platinum blond of Boots, but that's where the similarities end. This dude is close to seven feet tall, and the most often recurring thought is "cave man." If Boots is overly girly, than Freight Train is overly guy…ish.

Then in the next moment he's rushing me again, and my damned reflexes are slowed by blood loss. Still, I manage to dodge to one side and land a roundhouse on his side. Unfortunately, the guy doesn't really seem to feel it because he shakes it off and comes at me again. Out of the corner of my eye, I swear that Boots is smirking, but I don't really have the attention to spare.

Freight Train swings at me and the guy is deceptively quick. I barely duck in time, and I take the opportunity to grab his attacking arm from underneath to push up and out, hoping to unbalance him enough to give me an advantage. He does stumble back, but then plants his back leg against the floor to steady himself.

When we break apart, it's apparent that he's decided to take me a little more seriously because this time he doesn't charge me immediately. Instead, we circle each other slowly, trying to figure out what each others' weaknesses are. To be honest though, mine are pretty obvious considering the fact that my side is currently running like a faucet. As for Freight Train, well, he might as well have been built out of steel for all the "weaknesses" I can find in him.

But, that's all moot because Boots is obviously bored by all our posturing. He levels a handgun at me.

"How would you like to have another hole in your body?"

Bloody freaking hell.

* * *

Thank you: **CloudRed1988**, Tiny Cherie, **Tifa LheartCloti 528**, SorrowsFlower, **Sesshomaru Dogdemon**, Kotono116, **VAnilla Raindrops**, Fanfiction Fanactiction, **ohsnapples**, Emo-Chan the Awesome, **riveting tale chap**, vLuna, **cerberus angel**, cloudlover2989, **Sea-Glass88**, mom calling, **N'Cole Strife**, silverdigger, **ann**, hannehbuns, **xLeeny**, drinktea, **HopelessRomanticist**, Wiinddance, **Xirchs**, Ciara-Dragon, **sakR9**, xPhiieebeex-ayannaaki, **xForeverxAlonex**, zeprincelini, **lunavixen**

Wow! You guys are freaking awesome!


	12. The Concession

A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry. I know I show absolutely no consistency in how often I update this story. I'm really, truly thankful that so many of you have kept up with me and have shown me so much encouragement (despite my major fails). I'm really pressing on to get both this and **THE KILLING HAND** completed.

As an aside, if you've ever played _Tales of the Abyss_ or watched the anime, check out my new drabble collection for that called **IMPRESSIONS**. I really, really think the characters are well done. Jade is probably the most entertaining video game character I've ever played and I'm trying to spread the Luke/Tear love. :)

In any case, now that my shameless plugging is done, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

**PRO BONO**

**Chapter Twelve**

In the end, my life takes on Greek play proportions when the deus ex machina that is Vincent Valentine shows up to save my ass.

Just as I ready to toss myself to the side (which, regardless of what movies may show you, does _not_ stop you from getting shot—just keeps you from getting a vital organ hit), the mute thud from a silenced gun goes off and I'm confused because the sound did not come from Boots. Instead, Boots drops the gun and cradles his now shaking hand against his chest.

"Damn!" he snarls.

There's another muted shot and this time it's Freight Train who's in agony.

"Cloud."

The deep voice is a familiar one, if totally unexpected. I look towards the front door that's now swinging wide open with a tall but lean frame filling in the doorway. I never thought I'd be so happy to see my informant/private investigator. "Vincent?"

Another two shots and the intruders are incapacitated and on their knees.

"Let us leave."

Geez, leave it to Vincent to speak like this is an every day occurrence. Then again, considering what I know about his job (or more accurately, what I _don__'__t_ know about his job), this very well might be normal fare for him.

I hobble my way toward the door and Vincent graciously helps me along. I look back and there's no blood on my carpet—at least no blood that's not _mine_—so I know that Vincent used rubber bullets. Damn shame. Right about now, I wouldn't have minded if he'd blown their brains out.

…

…

…

… … …

Okay, so maybe I would've minded, if only because then I'd have to pay some serious carpet cleaning costs.

A plethora of questions are currently running through my head, but I've retained enough good sense not to ask them right now. At least until Vincent gets me to the nearest hospital and they pump some blood into me.

Damn, that makes me sound like a vampire. Which I'm not. Actually, now that I think about it, Vincent looks a helluva lot like a vampire. I mean, he's pale enough with the freakiest red eyes. Well, they're not really red, but under the right light, they look it. Like I said, freaky.

Finally, we make our limping—fine, _my_ limping way—to the parking lot where Vincent's snazzy black Beamer is waiting for us. I always thought his car is too souped up to be inconspicuous, but what the hey! He's the one with the career in snooping.

I'm barely buckled in when Vincent pulls out of the parking lot smoothly, joining a small smattering of cars on the road. Finally able to take a breath, I press my hand against my side and am glad to see that the bleeding has slowed. Still, there goes Vincent's leather interior.

"Why are you here?" I eventually ask.

"I mentioned that I ran across that young thief client of yours. I've been on her trail ever since that first time because I noticed that someone else has been shadowing her. Last night when she made her visit to you in the hospital, I realized that you're both in deeper than you realize."

No shit. I don't interrupt him though. I've never heard Vincent say so much in a row and part of me thinks that if I interrupt, he won't say anymore.

"Furthermore, I had made an interesting discovery regarding the Lockhart-Shinra case."

Now _this_ is new. "What did you find out?"

"I've been splitting my resources between Ms. Lockhart and Mr. Shinra, and I happened to follow Ms. Lockhart to a meeting with the latter."

The thought that Vincent had been tailing Tifa leaves a nasty taste in my mouth, but I know there's no cause for it. Vincent was doing his job, at _my_ request no less. Then it hits me what he'd said.

"Wait. Tifa had a meeting with Shinra? As in planned or they-happened-to-be-in-the-same place?" The latter is unlikely, I know, but I can't help but ask it anyway.

"Planned."

Oh yeah, _now_ Vincent returns to his one-word answers. "What did they talk about?"

"I couldn't quite catch the finer details, but he requested that she return to him."

"What did she say in response?" I don't quite understand why, but my hands are feeling a little clammy and my stomach is a little upset. _Please __tell __me __she __said __no, __please __tell __me __she __said __no!_

"She said to give her some time to think about it."

...Oookay. At least it wasn't a quick yes, right? Damn, what am I thinking? For better or worse, Denzel is _their _son, and they were married at one time. When push comes to shove, _they_ are the ones who are really family. Me? I'm just the lawyer.

Then something comes to me. "So is this whole thing child-custody thing a power play by Shinra to get Tifa back?"

"Perhaps," Vincent replies, his voice as enigmatic as ever.

That wonderful sixth sense of mine that'd kept me from dying more times than once kicks in. "But…?"

"I believe there is more to this whole situation than Rufus Shinra wanting his woman back."

It irritates me to hear him call Tifa _Shinra__'__s_ but I bite my tongue and say nothing about that. "What do you think it's about?"

Vincent doesn't respond for so long I begin to wonder whether I should ask my question again. It's almost a surprise when he does speak. Even more surprising is the note of genuine confusion in his voice. "I'm not sure. My normal information flows are blocked. I need some time to get past Shinra's security blocks."

Yikes. That doesn't sound good. If Vincent can't get to it…

There is something comforting out of all this though. At least now I know I have some kind of ammunition against Shinra. He has a secret and I'm going to find it.

In the meantime, I have a confrontation to make.

…

One blood transfusion and a change of clothes later, I find myself back outside the Seventh Heaven. After some consideration, I decided that I should only make my appearances where there are a lot of people. At least, maybe with a crowd, the insanity that is Boots and Freight Train won't be so keen on plugging me with another piece of lead. That's the theory, anyway.

And even if the crowds don't deter them...well, I'm not honorable enough to care about getting innocents in the way of crossfire. So it might have been my duty at one time to protect civilians, but I learned a long time ago that it's a dog-eat-dog world out there, and I don't intend to get eaten.

As for why I'm here, well, there's definitely other reasons I would rather see Tifa for, but today is not a pleasure visit.

"Cloud, you're out of the hospital!" It's difficult to focus when Tifa's bright smile is turned my way, but I somehow manage it. Apparently Tifa can tell that I'm here for business because her smile dims just the slightest bits around the edges. I wish I didn't just make that happen, but I guess there's no helping it.

Then she frowns as she takes in the rest of me. "Are you sure you should have left already? You're looking a little pale."

Ah yes, take that masculine ego.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just had a little minor incident earlier. No big deal." Great job self, lying through your teeth. No big deal, my ass.

Obviously, Tifa isn't convinced either by the suspicious look on her face, but she drops the subject. "Do we need to go somewhere to talk?"

"That'd be best, yeah."

She glances at her watch and nods. "Why don't you get some dinner first? My shift is over in about an hour and then we can talk then."

I nod my okay, and though I'm a little nervous at being in the same place for such a long time (oh gods, I'm becoming Yuffie!), truth is, I could really use the rest. My stomach growls. And the food, apparently.

Instead of staying at the bar like I usually would, I decide to grab a booth where both the entrance and the bar is in easy view. It's been a while since I've had to be so paranoid, but I realize some things you never forget.

I spend my meal alternating between spying on the entrance and spying—er, checking up on—Tifa. I love watching her, not in a creepy way, mind you, but just…_watching_ her. She just…has something about her that makes me feel…warm. Yes, warm and at peace.

It should freak me out totally and completely, but I suddenly realize in that moment that I would do anything for her. _Anything_. And while the thought does scare me, but for some reason the knowledge that Tifa is my lifeline is surprisingly liberating, like something that's been out of sync all my life suddenly just clicks into place.

The hour goes by surprisingly quickly and I'm thankful that it's blissfully uneventful, even if I had to willfully keep my ass firmly planted on the seat when one particularly persistent idiot tried to hit on Tifa. Repeatedly. It didn't help that she looked distinctly irritated by the thirtieth pass or so.

I guess some people would say that he's got that whole pretty-bad boy look going for him, with his wild red hair tied back in a low pony-tail and a pair of goggles (who the hell where's goggles like that?) resting at the top of his head. He's wearing a suit, but it's so damned wrinkled, he'd probably slept in it for the last three days. Personally, I don't see the appeal of someone who looks like a slob, no matter that he's got a pretty face.

Not that I pay that much attention to guys. I don't usually, and I'm just noticing this time because he's trying to hit on Tifa.

Aaaannnyway, just when I think I can't take the asshole's persistence anymore and I see him try to physically make a grab, Tifa's hand shoots out in a blur and twists his arm back in what can only be a painful position. Good. Little sucker was asking for it.

She murmurs something to him, and he nods frantically. She lets him go, and he shoots up out of his seat with a glare which quickly melts into a lazy grin. I can tell that he wants to say something stupid, but Tifa folds her arms across her chest and tips her head towards a looming Barret. The guy's not small, but everyone looks like a dwarf next to Barret.

He swallows heavily and wisely chooses to retreat.

Without warning, my body stands up on its own and my feet take me to the bar. And if I so happen to pass by the idiot and knock into him _hard_, yeah, well, accidents happen, no?

He tries his whole glare thing on me, but I'm proud to say that mine's scarier because his face whitens and he picks up his pace a little more. Whoops...there goes that customer for good.

"Cloud! That was totally unnecessary," Tifa reprimands, but I can hear the note of amusement in her voice.

I shrug and wait until I'm standing in front of her at the bar before saying, "Unnecessary, but sweet, right?"

Tifa shakes her head, but she's smiling. "You're incorrigible!"

"Yup. And proud of it."

She lets out a quick burst of laughter, and my lips flip upward in automatic response.

I like that I can give her that sheen of happiness in her eyes. It grounds me.

She rolls her eyes at me and makes a shooing motion with her hands. "Stop bothering me for another twenty minutes, then I'm all yours."

I know when she said it that she didn't mean it _that_ way, but damn if my mind—and body—didn't take it _that_ way. Apparently she hears what it sounds like right away because her cheeks flush.

Even though all my instincts are screaming to take her up on that on a more literal interpretation, I force myself to be gracious and nod like I didn't think it sounded like an invitation. Which it didn't really sound like one and wasn't one. It's just that my brain (both of them) are being guys, and guys are just...like that.

I chuckle to myself when I see Tifa smack herself on her forehead out of the corner of my eye as I walk back to my booth.

...

Tifa and I decide to have our conversation inside Barret's flat. Tifa mentioned taking a walk outside since it was such a nice day out, but I nixed that immediately. Too many people pointing guns at me recently for me to be comfortable taking a stroll with no cover.

Besides, depending on what Tifa's been keeping from me, this conversation might be better somewhere where we can sit.

We've always been able to be upfront with each other before, so I see no reason to change things now.

As soon as we've both sat down with a mug of coffee in our hands, I get straight to the point. "You met with Rufus Shinra recently."

She stiffens, her dark eyes shuttering and whatever good humor was lurking there before is completely gone. I'm sorry for the loss, but some things have to be said. Very deliberately, she sets her mug on the coffee table and turns her body just the slightest bit, but I notice it because it's a defensive move.

"Is that a question?" she finally asks.

I shake my head. "No. My question is why didn't you tell me about it."

"I didn't think it was necessary."

"Not _necessary_?" I repeat incredulously. "Gods, Tifa, you've always struck me as an incredibly sensible person, but that's either the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say, or the worst excuse I've ever heard. If I remember correctly, I happen to be the guy that's trying to keep Denzel with _you_. Jeez, 'Not necessary,' she says. You had a meeting with your ex-husband, and he tried to use the custody case as leverage to get you back, and you think this is all irrelevant?"

She narrows her eyes, and I know she's zeroed in on the one thing I said that I _didn't_ want her to catch. "You _followed_ me?"

"No, I had someone trailing Shinra." And you. But she really doesn't need to know that.

"I can't believe you'd do something like that!" she exclaims, and that is just unfair. I don't know where she thinks lawyers get the grounds to build their cases, but it sure as hell doesn't just materialize out of thin air.

"There's nothing wrong with putting a trail on someone. How else am I supposed to know what he does on a daily basis? Besides, he put a hell of a lot more than just a trail on _you_. Don't tell me you'd forgotten about those punks who tried to mug us a couple of weeks ago?"

She looked like she want to spit fire, but she didn't say anything.

"You recognized them, didn't you? That's why you let them off so easily?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. The same way you know that Shinra sent a freaking sniper to take us out."

"That's not true. Rufus might use some scare tactics, but there's no way he'd send actual gunners after us. That wasn't him."

I didn't think it was Shinra either, but Tifa just confirmed something else for me. My voice is soft when I say, "No, the sniper wasn't him, but the muggers were, weren't they?"

Tifa doesn't make a sound, but I know better than to think that she's calm. Her breathing is deep and even, and I know she's forcing herself to breathe like that in order not to blow up on me.

I know a part of her resents me for prying, but this is one situation where I can't not know. Personal reasons aside, if this whole thing between Shinra and Tifa is just one blown-out-of-proportion argument that's lasted five years, I goddamn need to know.

"Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

She refuses to meet my eyes. "There were too many variables."

"Damn it Tifa, that's what I do! I deal with the variables! I can't do my job if I don't even know what my variables _are_." Taking a deep breath myself, I try to continue with as reasonable a voice I can get. "Look, I need to know if I should continue taking this case seriously."

At that, Tifa snaps her wide eyes to me in surprise—and not a little hurt. "What?"

She's not going to like this, but I have to give it to her straight. "Is this whole thing—the custody battle, the divorce, these five years—just a phase? I mean," I quickly add when I see her murderous look, "do you really want to live a life with Denzel apart from Shinra? Or were you never serious about leaving him for good?"

All her meditation exercises aren't doing her any good right now because I can easily hear the ragged breaths coming from her mouth. She closes her eyes in an effort to compose herself, but when she opens them, I can see the rims are red. She's angry, but more than that, she's hurt. And I hate myself for making her hurt.

"Do you really think that of me? That I would put me and _Denzel_ through so much pain and heartache just because I was playing some twisted game with my ex-husband?" Her voice is steady and I'm struck anew by how goddamn strong she is.

"No, I _don't _think that. But I need to _know_. And you're holding something back from me that could affect this case and the chance we have to keep Denzel. Do you understand? I'm trying to help you, but I need to know the facts so that I can cover every exigency. Do you know how bad Shinra could make this look for you? He could say that you're using Denzel as leverage to extort money from Shinra or maybe he could say you're tired of working your ass off every day and that you wanted him to take you back. God, if I hadn't known about this, I could have been totally blindsided in court, and any chance we'd have of winning rendered nil! Damn it, Tifa, I know you have a brain. Use it!"

She starts to speak, stops, and after a long moment's pause tries again—trying hard not to strangle me, I'm sure. "Rufus contacted me a few days ago saying that he wanted to meet with me. No lawyers, no third party. Just me and him to see if we could come to an agreement. Honestly, I'd hoped we could. About Denzel I mean. I had no idea that he'd ask me to go back to him. I hadn't heard from him personally since the divorce, so you can imagine this was a bit of a shock."

"And so you told him you'd think about it."

She nodded slowly. "Yes, but that's not the only reason. He...He also said that you're putting me and Denzel in danger."

I still for a moment because to my ears, that sounds an awful lot like an admission or a warning. Maybe both.

"Did he mention whom I'm in danger from?"

"I asked and I asked, but he wouldn't say."

"Then who's to say I'm not in danger from _him_?" Another memory strikes me. "Did he have anything to do with the break-in at your old apartment?"

If he did, he's a dead man. Coming at me is one thing; it's a whole other thing to try and terrorize Tifa and Denzel like that.

"He said that wasn't him."

"And you believe him." I don't state it as a question, but she hears my skepticism.

"Look, I know Rufus looks really suspicious right now, and you have every right to think that he's tried to kill you, but he's a good man. Back when his father was alive, Rufus made sure to stay away from any of the underhanded dealings that Shinra senior was involved with. He was determined to make his fortune the legitimate way, and that kind of determination was one of the reasons I fell in love with him."

"Tifa..."

She's looking away from me still, and I see something there that makes my chest uncomfortable. She's sad, but she also looks like she's remembering the good times she had with Rufus. From the sounds of it, they had many.

With a deep, heart-felt sigh, I give up. I give up on trying to convince her that Rufus is a nefarious bastard. I give up...I give up hope on something I hadn't realized I'd started hoping for. The reason Tifa never dated again after the divorce is painfully obvious; she's still in love with Rufus.

God, it hurts so much more than I thought it would to acknowledge that.

Still, even if she thinks that Shinra holds the stars up in the sky, I have to get her to be more careful. "However great you may think him, I doubt he—or specifically, Scarlet—will have any qualms about tainting your name in court. You need to watch your steps."

"Rufus isn't like that."

"Or so you think." I hold up a hand to stop her protest. "I know you know him better than I do. But it's always better to be safe than sorry. Maybe I'm being overly cautious, but being such a paranoid ass is why I'm good at my job."

She must sense something wrong with me because suddenly she looks at me in concern. "Cloud..."

I don't want her to ask, and I don't want to answer, so I cut in with a question of my own that's been bothering for some time. "Tifa, you don't have to answer me if you don't want to, but can you tell me why you divorced him in the first place if you still think of him so highly?"

She looks away. "I…He cheated on me. I tried to stay with him and work it through even after I found out, but it just didn't work out."

My heart squeezes painfully tight in my chest when I see how sad she is about her divorce, even now when Rufus and his entourage of lawyers are making her (and my) life miserable.

_Do you still love him?_

That's the question I really want to ask and for a while, I'm not sure if I didn't ask it out loud. But I must not have because Tifa gives me no indication that she heard me.

"I see," I finally reply because I do see.

Despite Zack's best hopes, after this case is over, there will be no me and Tifa together. We can be friends, but never anything more because if there's one thing I know about her now, it's that Tifa loves hard and she loves forever. She thought she'd found her forever once, but she was disappointed and severely hurt. Even with as big a heart as Tifa has, I don't think she's willing to risk that forever kind of love again.

I laugh a little inwardly. Besides, who I am to deserve that kind of love? I'm just a reformed druggie with too many ghosts in my past to help her get over hers.

It's better this way.

It doesn't make me feel any better.

* * *

A/N: Sorry I ended this chapter on such a downer, but it had to happen sometime.

Again, thanks for all your patience and support!

Shout-outs: **CloudRed1988**, Neyuchi, **1wingedangelX**, riveting tale chap, **Iris Irene**, Ardwynna Morrigu, **JC-zala**, Wiinddance, **Ciara-Dragon**, hannehbuns, **zeprincelini**, roro, **Roxa-XIII**, drinktea, **Emo-Chan the Awesome**, Tiny Cherie, **vLuna**, MDLuffy, **Chibi McFu**, Diana Kim, **BlUeFIAmE**, N'Cole Strife, **Jae. Lockheart**, kimberly kim, **cheeriolord**, 11tiggers


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